


It's All on The Line Optimus Prime!

by prisonmechanic



Series: OMTOP [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Memory Loss, Multi, Oh My God, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Sequel, Slow Burn, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Time Travel, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, War, its both, please read the first fic!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 80,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22568665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prisonmechanic/pseuds/prisonmechanic
Summary: After finally receiving part of the matrix and getting sent back in time one more time, Optimus Prime prepares for all-out war against Nominus.  His only real advantage being his past records and a certain Warlord who may be a little more invested than he should be.Meanwhile, Bumblebee deals with having a bond with a mech who doesn't even know who he is.Meanwhile Meanwhile, things on Cybertron go from bad to worse as Nominus and Ultra Magnus close their fists around the Autobots in preparation for the Decepticon invasion lead none other than Optimus and Megatron themselves. Jazz doesn't know what to do about the whole thing and Sentinel Prime doesn't like the new attitude his Major has.Sequel to One More Time, Optimus Prime!
Relationships: Blitzwing/Bumblebee, Blurr/Longarm Prime | Shockwave, Jazz/Prowl, Megatron/Optimus Prime, Minimus Ambus/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Rodimus/Ultra Magnus
Series: OMTOP [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619848
Comments: 377
Kudos: 369





	1. Listening to Your Spark

**Author's Note:**

> I'm. Back. haha. and yes I rhymed lie with Prime. sorry.

Optimus Prime stood in front of the cheering crowd of organics but his optics were locked onto the sky above them. 

Beside him, his crew stood comfortably, waving or smiling at the familiar scene laid before them. Detroit was thanking them once more for destroying the techno-organic that had once again snuck on their shape. The scene was familiar and comfortable even as Optimus stared at the sky waiting to see if Starscream was going to change his usual routine. 

Well, familiar except for one major detail. 

Behind the Megatron stood stiffly, as if not sure exactly what to do with himself. Optimus assumed that was actually the case, as he suspected Megatron was more used to frightened screaming from alien species rather than cheering. It was almost endearing just how awkward he seemed. 

Optimus provided the small mercy of sending a reassuring comm,:: Relax and wave. This is a celebration::

Megatron, who despite Optimus' recent upgrade still loomed over him by several feet, let his field and struts relax slightly. It wasn't much but perhaps he looked a little less militant. 

:: They know I'm different. I'm larger, more menacing. They'll  _ know  _ something is wrong,:: Megatron responded and Optimus heard his pedes shift back and forth behind him. 

:: You're making assumptions. Professor Sumdac doesn't even know the difference between us and he had you fully dissected.:: He tried to assure, briefly, he leaned back, brushing the back of his helm to Megatron's chest,:: More importantly, get ready. Starscream will arrive in exactly 5 clicks. And please, don't beat him in public::

An annoyed, warm rush of air wafted from the warlord's vents and over him. :: He tried to blow me up. I'm not exactly feeling friendly::

::Yes, but disciplining your second in command in front of the humans might actually make them wary of you,:: Optimus suggested. 

Above them, the overhead jets started to circle, pulling into formation for the airshow. Joining them was one very familiar extra jet and Optimus readied himself to pull out his axe. 

Bumblebee shot around, arms pulled up as he bounced on the spot. It gives Optimus pause and he tears his optics away from Starscream to look at him. 

"Can I do it?!? Please?!?" Bumblebee begs as he bounces. 

From behind him, Megatron finally speaks aloud, "Do what exactly?" 

Optimus engaged his axe, throwing up lightly, watching it flip and catching it. Bumblebee jumped up to grab it and scowled when Optimus pulled it away at the last moment. He took a moment to think it over. 

But hopefully with Megatron here they wouldn't have to do it at all. With the humans distracted by the air show, he voiced as much to the two of them loud enough that the others would catch on. Bumblebee pouted but accepted it. 

Optimus kept the axe out, just in case. 

As Starscream broke from formation, his descent lacked it's usual vigour but not his usual showmanship. Before reaching them, he pulled up, transforming mid-air and landed kneeling before them. Optimus supposed it was more so kneeling for Megatron. 

His landing shook the platform they were on, cracking part of the concrete structure. Despite the noise and puff of debris, Starscream kept his helm low and Optics downcast. 

"My liege! How… Unexpected it is to see you again-- Strika had pronounced you deactivated!" He said, tone bordering on begging. "Allow me to deal with the  _ Autobots. _ " 

Optimus let his helm brush against Megatron's chest again at the spike of anger in his field. 

"Unnecessary," Megatron ground out, "It truly is a miracle I survived the  _ explosion. _ " 

In Front of them, Starscream's wings dipped and the humans cheered at the new arrival. 

* * *

“You’re forgetting Cyclonus. He remembers the loops,” Ratchet chimed in from across the room. On the couch, Bumblebee and Bulkhead glanced back at him. In front of a sheet of metal being used as a whiteboard, Optimus and Prowl stood, eyeing up the other names on the board, trying to piece things together. Ratchet finished his approach, shoo-ing Bumblebee over on the couch so he could join them, “Move over kid. Old joints mean I get to sit.”

Prowl wrote Cyclonus’ designation up on the board under their own and opposite Bulkheads. He took an invent, “That means Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Cyclonus, Megatron and I remember. And puts Bulkhead, Starscream and Blackarachnia on the no side.”

Attention elsewhere Optimus kept his optics on Ratchet, “Is Megatron coming? I had assumed he had been held up with you.”

“I was talking to Fanzone about reconstruction shifts for repairing the damage Starscream caused,” Ratchet crossed his arms and scowled, “' Don't give me that look. You look like a lost puppy.”

Immediately Optimus turns back to the board, a lash of shame in his field betrays his true feelings. 

If Optimus is being honest, something has changed. He knows his team can see it as well, and it's not reflecting well on him. It's one thing to go to Megatron when they were forced to work together. But now Optimus is letting the warlord play good guy and inviting him to planning meetings. Ratchet is the most vocal about it, snarling when he can but Optimus knows its only time before the others confront him as well. 

But he can't help it. The last few nights he's laid awake as usual. Somehow, after the last loop, it's become worse; he's lain awake, processor racing and frame convinced he'll wake and everyone will forget again and he'll be alone once again. 

But in those moments before he had died and Megatron had held him, helped him through it all… He hadn't been scared. The night before they entered Iacon Megatron had pulled him into his lap and stayed to watch and Optimus had slept easily with the weight of everything fell on someone else. 

He hated himself for it But he wanted to be held again. Just one more night. Hed sleep. He'd feel safe.

But giving in would be a betrayal. Not only to himself but to others as well.

Ratchet's posture seemed to soften and he looked to Prowl almost as if conflicted by his own words. 

Bumblebee cleared his vocalizer, breaking the awkward silence and pointing to the board, "So Bulk and Screamer were dead though before the reset. Blackarachnia was MIA." 

Optimus nodded, stepping back and looking at the board. There had to be a pattern here somewhere, something that defined who did and didn't remember. 

"Megatron said he was going to get in contact with Strika to see if she knows anything. It may give us a clearer picture," Optimus adds, trying not to draw attention to the fact he had gone to Megatron for a favour, again. 

Prowl made a small contemplating sound before pointing the marker back at the board. He stood there for a brief pause before looking back to the others," Assuming Strika comes back with a negative the next mech we'd need to contact is Jazz." 

"Jazz minor?" Bulkhead asked. 

"Well," Prowl motioned to the side of the board with his own name on it, "All of these mechs were confirmed alive at the end of the loop. And we all also happened to be in the hall of records when the loop reset. Jazz was also present when Optimus received half the Matrix and died." 

Ratchet raised a hand, "That would also mean Zeta and Nominus would remember." 

Which would be absolutely devastating. If Zeta and Nominus knew what had happened they lost basically all of their advantages. Optimus knew it would already be an uphill battle trying to get Nominus' matrix. The mech had an army at his back. In contrast, Optimus only had a tenuous relationship with someone who wasn't too fond of lending his army again. 

If Nominus knew they were coming it was already over. 

_ He will be aware-- _ Primus' words echoed in Optimus' helm. The statement would make a lot of sense if Nominus remembered. 

From the door, another voice joined In. "Which may be the case. I've received word from Strika. She does not know anything about the time loop." 

Megatron leaned down, ducking under the bay door to the factory and straightening back up as he made his way towards them. Behind him by only a few paces, Starscream did the same. 

"What is  _ he _ doing here?" Prowl asked. 

Starscream lifted a servo, motioning for them to silence themselves as he spoke, "I'm Megatron's  _ second in command _ . Megatron has filled me in on the situation. Whatever you think happened in this last time loop or  _ whatever  _ is null and void. It didn't happen." 

Megatron shot Optimus a look that said the argument wouldn't be worth it. Still, when Optimus opened his mouth to speak Megatron sent him a comm. :: He'll be loyal until he learns of Vos again. It's alright. I have him under control as usual.::

Optimus gave a curt nod in response before shooting Prowl a look that said he had things under control. 

"More importantly," Megatron continued, "Shockwave has been arrested.  _ Someone _ on Cybertron knows about the past loops and is starting to make their own moves. Logically that person is Nominus." 

The room stared at Megatron. 

"Your names on the board," He motioned to the right side, "All mechs in the room when Optimus received the Matrix. " 

"Or Jazz could have said something about Shockwave," Bumblebee shrugged as he pointed out. 

Prowl whirled around but showed no other outward problem with the statement. 

The suggestion made Optimus' plating crawl as well. Jazz had been through so much and to turn on them again would mean he couldn't be trusted ever again. 

Prowl brushed it off, "We need a new set of Optics on Cybertron. I know Brainstorm is still there, but we could use someone closer to high command." 

Starscream scoffed, "And? We can't just put another mech in high command just like that. Shockwave's ascension to the head of intelligence almost took a million years to pull off!" 

"I made it into intelligence in just under four months. Before Gateway and Sentinel got involved we had Cliffjumper on our side who was head of intelligence," Prowl pointed out. 

Megatron's engine rumbled, gaze lowering to Prowl. "Are you suggesting we let you waltz back onto Cybertron? Exactly how are you going to pull that off when Nominus knows your face?" 

Prowl stood his ground and visor brightened, , "Yes. But Nominus also knows at the beginning of the loop I betrayed Optimus." Prowl motioned back to the board, "Say Zeta has told Nominus that he remembers but Jazz didn't. Somehow Jazz is still loyal. Nominus assumes it's a fluke. Let me Betray Optimus again. We'll stage some sort of… show. I get a ride to cybertron and we get another shot at the Magnus Hammer. You get another set of optics on high command, we get to speak to Jazz, and I can pull some strings. We wait a bit and stage an escape from Trypticon. Shockwave, Thundercracker, Blurr, Cliffjumper, jazz and Skywarp in one swoop."

_ He's mentioned Thundercracker and Skywarp for a reason. If he can get Starscream on board then may maybe they can pull this off.  _

"They're alive Starscream," Optimus adds, "and it's a start. It's at least getting ahead before things get complete out of servo." 

Starscream's expression darkened while Prowl spoken, field filling the room with a prickly anger. Optimus knew he wanted to wheel around and stab Megatron for lying about his trine mates. But there were fresh dents on his frame and Optimus could tell he wasn't so excited for another beating so soon. 

"If you trust this Jazz so much, then I will spearhead the operation for the breakout," Starscream hissed, "Turning their mechs against them under their nose… Humph. Maybe you Autobots aren't so… Autobot afterall."

Optimus shrugged, raising a servo, "guilty. You've really corrupted me."

Ratched let out an annoyed huff, "Oh? And how exactly do you expect to pull this off? This isn't like the first time. They'll send a lot more than just Magnus and the Steelhaven." 

"Actually," Optimus turned towards the corner of the room, looking towards where he had placed the Allspark, "I've got an idea for that. But before any of that, we need a communication console. We need to contact Jazz before we make any more assumptions." 

* * *

"We're working with Megatron again hm?" 

Optimus stiffened, placing down the box of supplies he was sorting and definitely  _ not hiding after their strategy meeting. Definitely not.  _ He took a deep breath and looked to the door. This situation felt familiar somehow but he didn't have time to linger on the thought as he looked over Ratchet. 

"Ratchet--" 

"First we're using him. Then we're just working with him temporarily. Then we're making deals with him. Now you're asking after him like a lovesick Decepticon," Despite his harsh tone, Ratchet looked a little softer as he walked in and shut the door behind him. 

"Nominus was so… Disgusted with me Ratchet. He'll use the Autobot army against us. We need the firepower--" 

"And we'll find a way to make do without it if you're uncomfortable working with him," Ratchet hoisted himself up onto the crate beside him, his expression falling into something soft and concerned. 

But the issue was, Optimus  _ wasn't  _ uncomfortable. He  _ wanted _ to be around Megatron again. 

_ That rush of power, running the battlefield like a chessboard. Being comfortable enough to sleep. Being so trusting as to let a warlord hold him while he died.  _

"It will be fine. He's being helpful for some reason," Optimus swallowed, "I think it's because he thinks our deal still stands; his help for the Matrix. Now that just involves getting back the second piece as well." 

"You don't seem to be complaining--" 

"Having any sort of feelings for or about him would be stupid," Optimus interrupted, snapping at Ratchet as he straightened, "I get that. Sentimentality gets mechs killed. Megatron and I don't have the best track record. And just look at Bumblebee with Blitzwing and Blur with Shockwave for Primus' sake! I get it but damn it Ratchet if I don't just want to sleep one more time while someone else takes watch." 

Just one more night. There didn't have to be anything between them.  _ There  _ **_wasn't_ ** _ anything between them _ . But a good night's sleep was always too good to pass up and if that meant curling up in Megatron's lap, then so be it. 

Distraught and angry, Optimus picked up the box of spare parts he was holding and turned around, fully intent on making his escape to the Orion for the night under the guise of doing repair work. 

But Ratchet held firm in the doorway. His intake opened and closed. And for a moment, Optimus was concerned that perhaps raising his voice had actually startled him into silence. But he wasn't quiet for long. 

"It would help your Glitch if you got more sleep, " Ratchet took an invent. It was going to be the closest thing Optimus got to an approval for a long time. 

"Thank you," 

The day went on, summing up to be long and tiring. The celebration took most of the morning and their planning consumed his afternoon. In an attempt to exhaust himself further, Optimus even drove out and attempted some repairs on the Orion. He had made progress too, a few more days and their long-range communications would be back online and they could set their plan into motion. 

He should fall into recharge as soon as he had wrapped himself in a tarp. But as usual, his processor ran. 

_ Nominus is going to kill you ( _ strangely familiar actually, though Optimus notes it's no longer Megatron haunting that particular thought _ )  _

_ You can't save them all.  _

_ What does Primus mean by a threat that needs their full strength?  _

_ How does he tell the others that they need to start accepting the Decepticons again?  _

_ Megatron will find out again. The Matrix is welded to your frame. He'll rip you apart to destroy it.  _

_ Ratchet's going to leave you for not hating Megatron anymore.  _

_ If Jazz betrays you it's over.  _

It's always too much. After an hour of struggling, Optimus sat up, swung his legs out and stood. 

He realizes where he's going when he's almost up the mountain

* * *

Megatron wakes to the sound of pede steps. Instinctually he shoots up, almost on his pede before he realizes this isn't another assassination attempt by Starscream. The faction signature is all wrong, the mech is too small and they aren't sneaking at all. 

"... Optimus?" 

The pedesteps stopped just before the alcove in their cave that Megatron had picked as his own. The dark of the cave reveals wide blue optics staring up at him. He knows it must be difficult for him to see without the general night vision upgrades common among combatants. But Megatron can see clearly enough to see how his plating is flared and he's stood up straight. 

Megatron missed those blue optics. 

"I. I'm not sneaking around, I promise," Optimus makes out, though his voice is low as is he's trying not to wake the others. 

Megatron sits back on the scrap metal he had scavenged as a berth. It's still warm from where he had lain from the last few hours. He's tempted to lay back down and tell the mech to frag off for disturbing his recharge cycle. 

But he doesn't, instead, he pulls his tarp up over his shoulders, trapping out the damp of the cave. 

"Then what exactly are you doing here in the middle of the night?" 

Starscream was supposed to be on watch. He was going to get thrown in the brig if he was shirking off his duties for another assassination plan. 

Optimus takes a bold step forward, something not right in his field, "I… I'm being an idiot. You can't tell Ratchet I was here."

Megatron rubbed a servo down his faceplates, praying to a false God that Optimus would get to whatever point he wanted to make so he could go back into recharge. He sighed through his main vents, "The point, Optimus. It's the middle of the night and I'm tired."

"May I sleep here? With you I mean. Like back on Cybertron?" it comes out rushed and more than a little nervous. 

Megatron didn't know what to say to that and at first the request didn't even register. Optimus is generally disgusted by his touches and avoids them at all costs. In the past the only time he's willingly given in was when he was exhausted or trying to frag something out of him. 

Megatron snarls at the thought. He's not about to be  _ used _ , "I'm not going to frag you Optimus. No matter what you think you're going to get out of it." 

"No!" Optimus blurts before looking around to see if he's woken anyone else, "No. Just to recharge. Like after Metroplex, and in the library." 

Megatron doesn't count holding him while he was dying as--

_ Oh.  _

**_Oh._ **

Comfort. Optimus is anxious, likely too anxious to sleep and he's come back for comfort again. 

That's something he can do. 

His spark thrums and he leans back on the berth, shifting the tarp back over his legs. It's a form of use, he acknowledges but it's more akin to mutual affection than anything. It's something Megatron has no issue providing if it's one way Optimus will trust him. 

It speaks well for their future working together. 

It speaks poorly for what his faction will think. 

Once comfortable, he pats beside him in invitation. 

Optimus shuffles forward with a poorly hidden relief. He has to shift his hips awkwardly to get up on the berth. Megatron fought back the urge to help him up, at the same time thinking about a way to lower the berth in case this becomes a more common occurrence. Once up though, he doesn't hesitate to tuck himself under the tarp and against Megatron's side. 

"No interfacing," Optimus Promises as he fits himself against Megatron's side. 

Megatron drops his arm, cradling Optimus against his side. His plating is slightly clammy from wandering the cave so Megatron pulls the tarp up and a little tighter around both of them. 

"Then you may stay," Megatron says. 

Optimus doesn't settle though. He's still sure, but not recharging. Tired and not willing to comment Megatron tried to drift off as he let Optimus figure himself out. 

In that small gap between wakefulness and recharge, when his systems have quieted enough to seem as if he's unconscious he feels Optimus shit once more. It's as if he was waiting for Megatron to start to Defrag before making his move. It should be suspect but Megatron isn't concerned when he feels exactly  _ what _ Optimus is doing. 

He moves slowly in an attempt to not jostle Megatron much but it's almost impossible to miss the weight that settles itself on his chassis. Optimus lays himself on top of him with his audial pressed right over his spark chamber and his legs tangled with Megatron's own. In a way. It's more comfortable for Megatron as well, though he suspects Optimus has his own reasons. 

When Optimus has settled again Megatron raises a servo, laying over the smaller mechs waist making him jump slightly. But a soft and soothing rumble of his primary engine relaxes him once more. 

When Megatron finally falls into recharge its to the sound of a much smaller content engine lulling itself right along with him. 


	2. Relationships are Hard but so is War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bumblebee and Blitzwing reunite! But they aren't the only two meeting up again 
> 
> Jazz is manipulative. Which he definately learned from Sentinel but he's working through it he promises. It's for a good cause. 
> 
> Hey. I put Sari in here. 
> 
> References galore to the first book!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely forgot how fun it was to write this fic. somehow it's kinda just re-invigorated me somehow. 
> 
> Wow, it's almost like having a creative outlet is good for you or something

Bumblebee buzzed in anticipation. He knew his boundless energy was grating on the others especially Ratchet and Megatron but that didn't matter. After a month of waiting, attending boring strategy meetings and running back and forth with Sari to Professor Sumdac lab, the day was finally here. 

The Decepticons were arriving on Earth. 

And Blitzwing was with them. 

The entire roster was relatively recognizable and the few names Bumblebee didn't know, Optimus did which eased any sort of apprehension he may have. But most importantly, and Bumblebee stressed this point, most importantly Blitzwing was arriving this afternoon. 

Unluckily for him, the others on his team seemed to pick up on it as well.

The first warning came from Ratchet. He pulled Bee aside after one of the strategy meetings after a Megatron had announced exactly when their reinforcements would arrive. 

"He won't know who you are," Ratchet warned, "And Optimus isn't exactly too keen on letting you two be alone either. Don't get any ideas." 

Bumblebee had simply smiled, "I'll behave. I promise. The mech doesn't even remember me Ratch." 

Oh, he'd behave alright. Behave right back into Blitzwing’s lap. 

The nickname almost earned him a cuff up the back of the helm but Bumblebee had gotten pretty good at ducking. 

Optimus' warning had at least been a little more subtle. It had been little more than a clasp on his shoulder and a low, warning, "You have a job to do Bumblebee. I'm counting on you. Everyone is." 

It's as much as a bolster to his ego as it is a threat. He's known for a long time that Optimus never really approved of their bonding even if it was out of concern more than disgust. 

And it's not disgust. Or if it is, then Optimus is a hypocrite with the way he's been acting around Megatron since the loop reset. It's obvious he has some attraction to the warlord even possibly Decepticon leaning ones.

Wouldn't that be a sight? Optimus Prime, getting bonded? As if. 

On top of that, he knows they would have put more effort into isolating him more from the Decepticons if they had the time. But with the upcoming plan, they're already spread so thin. Optimus and Megatron are scheming, Ratchet is establishing a medical bay on the Orion, Prowl is trying to contact Jazz and Bulkhead is planning construction projects for the upcoming battles. 

Either way, the warnings don't matter. It's not as if they have any idea what they're talking about anyways. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't stay away from Blitzwing. They're  _ bonded _ . And that means something, even if Blitzwing doesn't quite know it yet. 

The bond had been quiet. Bumblebee suspects it's due to the distance. That and if he remembers correctly, Ratchet said something a while ago about it being underdeveloped. But still, he reaches out to it from time to time, just a tentative push to feel exactly what Blitzwing is up to. 

Blitzwing doesn't always respond but when he does it's with a vaguely concerned confusion as he pushes back against Bumblebee. The response is tentative and never exactly focused. It feels like Blitzwing doesn't exactly know its a bond at all, instead responding to a weird throbbing in his chest. 

Which is fine. Bumblebee is more than ready to go through it all again if he has to. It was Blitzwing’s decision to bond anyways. There's no way he'll reject something he put so much time into. 

He'll just have to make Blitzwing fall in love with him all over again. 

They're ready and waiting by the time reinforcements arrive in the atmosphere. All of them are stood on the shore, visible to the arriving Decepticons including Megatron, Starscream and Blackarachnia just in case Strika was hostile upon arrival. 

The ship pulled into range just above lake Erie, thrusters engaged just enough to slowly guide them out to the island on the lake. 

"Their engines have cut," Optimus states, and for the first time, Bumblebee realizes just how tense everyone is being though he can't tell why. 

"Let's go. Don't want Strika taking out her annoyance on the local fauna now do we?" Megatron finishes. 

They wade into the water while Starscream takes off and transforms. He goes ahead of them, likely to try and blunt the news of well…  _ them _ . Except for Optimus, they're all still wearing their Autobot badges. It's something they've all agreed to at least until their clash with the Autobots. 

They arrive at the island and shake off Lake Erie's murky water. It didn't take them long to arrive, but already the Decepticons have disembarked on the shore, a massive warship behind them. Bumblebee recognizes it as Strika's ship from the invasion of Cybertron except it's a lot less damaged. 

Optimus and Megatron approach first, together so the Decepticons don't get any ideas about going after Optimus so soon. Bumblebee doesn't know what Megatron has told them yet, and by the way, he's acting it isn't much. 

But Bumblebee is preoccupied with other things. 

He scans the group of Decepticons, reaching out over the bond and  _ feeling _ how close Blitzwing is to him. It takes all of his self-control not to run over to them and search him out himself. 

In response, he can feel Blitzwing’s sudden concern with a twinge of panic. It's obvious he doesn't know what's going on and Bee does his best to push  _ comfort/relax/don't freak out.  _ When they're this close the bond is more focused and emotions and intents are much clearer. He's hoping Blitzwing understands that, that he can be rational about this. 

He recognizes Strika and Cyclonus first, mostly because of how involved they were while their team was on the Nemesis. But then he comes to remember more of them; Lugnut, OilSlick, Deadlock and hook even, though he seems to be the only mech from his gestalt here. They're so bulky that half of their frames overlap and all Bumblebee can recognize from Blitzwing frame from the back of the group is his cannons sticking up above their helms. 

"Nope!" Ratchet announces, turning back towards the water, "If anyone needs me I'll be back on the Orion. Don't get shot. I'm  _ not  _ coming out here to save anyone's aft." 

Bulkhead whirls around, field up in alarm, "You can't just leave! Optimus hasn't even called us over yet!" 

Prowl reaches over, placing a servo on Bulkhead's arm and tilting his helm towards the group of Decepticons. "See that mech? Red, white and black plating? He's got a weird fixation with Ratchet. Let him go."

Bumblebee drowned them out, instead focusing on the bond, trying to get Blitzwing’s attention on him. He tried not to be forceful, but he needed the contact. He'd waited so long, Seen Blitzwing  _ die _ , he needed reassurance. 

Optimus turned, waving them over. 

Bumblebee couldn't help but jog, pulling ahead of the others. He didn't care anymore if his excitement showed. He just needed to see Blitzwing-- just needed to see his bonded. 

He came to a stop beside Optimus, not even sparing him a glance as he looked over the crowd. He  _ pulled _ , willing Blitzwing to punch past lugnut and look him in the optics. 

Again, confusion pulled over their bond, but Bee could see the cannons peeking above the others start to turn and move towards him. And then a tentative servo pushed Lugnut aside--

_ Just a little more! Please! I'm right here!  _

The cool purple of Blitzwing’s faceplates came into view and Bee's spark skipped a spin. He looked  _ good.  _ Not simply in the fact he was attractive, because  _ primus he couldn't wait to frag that again _ , but in the way that he looked healthy. Since his T-cog surgery, Blitzwing was always pale with a condensation lingering on his plating. But now, he shone. 

Their optics met, and for the first time, Bumblebee realized he was looking at a living ghost. 

No. Not a ghost at all. 

Their bond went sour. Immediately there was a rage that overtook him, swallowing the bond and contorting it painfully. It raged like a Nova storm; lighting igniting gasses that had escaped a planet's atmosphere causing explosions that rocked his very being. He felt Blitzwing pull and twist the bond testing for confirmation. 

He received it in the form of Bumblebee clutching at his spark. 

_ Click. Whir.  _

Bee almost didn't recognize the noise without the hiss of steam it used to carry. 

_ This wasn't his Blitzwing.  _

The realization hits too late. The mech charged at him, faceplates a searing red as they came closer. The pain in his spark isn’t gone, rendering him barely able to move as his sensors register the danger drawing closer. All he can do is brace, engaging his battle mask and bring his arms up to protect his face. 

“Bumblebee!”

His  _ bonded  _ collides with him, arm swooping down and tossing him back. He curls in response, trying to protect his internals from the impact. The water feels like concrete as his back collides with it. He feels his plating bend painfully as if he’s it one of Detroit's skyscrapers. It paralyzes him, the pain forcing him still as he starts to sink under the water. 

The pressure in his spark weighs down harder if possible. It’s only eased by the absolute betrayal he sends back along it, and he can feel how it wretches Blitzwing half the way it wretches him. 

_ Blitzwing doesn’t know what they were, what they’ve lost.  _

Bee can’t think as he sinks both metaphorically and literally. He  _ feels _ though, lets the realizations wash over him and consume any spare logic circuit he can spare. He watches as air escapes his frame and the bubbles start to slow as he sinks further. Water washes into his vents, washing his frame with cold relief as his spark continues to burn. 

Blitzwing hates him. 

He doesn’t even really know why, though he can guess. 

His back collides with the algae-covered mud of the bottom of the lake just as the bubbles come to a stop. 

It’s a sunny day, he realizes. Streaks of light peek through the surface of the water in streaks of green and brown. He doesn’t know what to do with that information, but his optical sensors report it, grounding him to his frame.

The next thing they report is a shadow, eliminating the bright beams of light. His spark contorts once more, recognizing some sort of flight frame above him. The water around him resists his movements as he rolls over and attempts to get up on his pedes. 

He’s too slow. 

Flight engines work better in the water than his pedes do and he only makes it a step before a servo is around his waist. As he’s lifted up, he realizes he’s much more scared to face Blitzwing again than he is of being beaten. 

He’s hurt his bonded, even if unintentionally. 

But there was nothing he could have done to prevent this. 

They breach the water's surface and Bumblebee already feels way too hot again. He attempts to close the bond as much as possible, it's the least he can do to try and spare Blitzwing from the residual pain if he’s going to take more damage. 

He vividly remembers how it felt when Blitzwing,  _ his Blitzwing _ was burning up beneath him. It was agony, but he’d tolerate it all over again for just a moment longer with him. He’d do anything to have that back again. 

He was naive to think a mech he had never met would love him, just like that. 

“He’s fine!” The mech above him yells in a voice that is distinctly not Blitzwing. 

Bumblebee looks up, plating slicked down like a soaked puppy as his optics meet Megatron’s. Back on shore, there’s a curt response from Optimus, “I want him looked over by a medic!”

Megatron carries him back to shore, and he recognizes a splatter of Energon he thinks is his own, except for the fact that there are no warnings on his HUD except for the dents littering his frame. His optics scan the shore, and find Blitzwing, with hook perched above him, pulling Optimus’ axe from his shoulder. It’s comforting in a way that doesn’t quite register, that Optimus is still that protective of him. 

But why didn’t he feel--

Oh right. He’d clamped down on the bond. 

Megatron slows, immediately depositing him down on the beach and turning towards Blitzwing. 

“Do you know what you might have just caused?!? Get it through your slagging processor that this is a tenuous position here! The Autobots here are not to be  **touched** let alone attacked! Do I make myself clear!?!” Bumblebee winced despite the fact Megatron's ire wasn’t focused on him.

Optimus was at his side the next instant, looking him over like a concerned sparkling sitter. Bumblebee couldn’t find the energy to brush him or Bulkhead off as they started to swarm him. At the very least, he gets out a mumble. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Optimus asks. 

He raises his volume, just to get it over with, “It’s not his fault.”

Bulkhead places a servo on his back, but it’s not at all comforting. Megatron is still yelling.

“Don’t say that little buddy, he attacked you out of nowhere--”

“Blitzwing and I are still bonded.”

The air around him disappears, and he wishes that he was back in the lake, watching the sun rays. 

Optimus stiffens, straightening up and looking towards Megatron is all but blowing a gasket over the whole situation. Bee watches his face shift from concerned to that stoic disappointment right before he usually gets a lecture. 

But the lecture doesn’t come, not yet at least

“Go back to the Orion Bumblebee. Ratchet will take care of your dents,” Optimus sounds distant, as if he’s thinking through the implications of the entire situation, “Bulkhead, you go with him and makes sure he arrives safely. Prowl and I will finish up here.”

All he can do now is follow orders. 

* * *

Jazz can't stay idle. 

He watches silently from his post directly under Sentinel and Ultra Magnus but he knows his situation is under constant threat. One misstep, one small mistake and Nominus will know that he _ knows _ and if he wants to help Optimus at any point his best shot is here in high command. 

But the idleness is killing him, especially after Shockwave's arrest. So he tries to plot, tries to find a way to contact earth without alerting the Autobots. 

There's an obvious solution. Shockwave would have had to have been contacting Megatron  _ somehow _ . And if he could find out how exactly he could probably use it. 

He could try Brainstorm. But that might expose a second Decepticon and Jazz needs allies more than he needs orders. Not that the Decepticons know he's on their side. Or at least he assumes he is. 

With the way the Autobots are gearing up for a full-scale assault, Optimus is going to need the help. 

He knows Optimus must be plotting  _ something _ but what that something is eluding him and stops him from really doing much to help. 

He tries to think like Optimus. Shockwave is obviously a huge security risk for the Decepticons but if the gossip is to be believed he hasn't broken in interrogation yet which is a relief. Jazz has no idea what he knows and if anything is leaked to Nominus it could mean the upcoming fight could be a lot harder than it needed to be. 

Jazz hates not knowing, but blending in is his priority at the moment. It's impossible to draw a conclusion on what Optimus is planning. But if he just had a  _ scrap  _ of information he'd be able to help. 

The scrap comes to him unintentionally. 

They're aboard the Stealhaven; Ultra Magnus, Sentinel Prime and himself. He's the one to answer the communications from Nominus Prime when it comes in. 

"Ultra Magnus," Nominus barks as he comes up on the main screen. 

"Nominus Prime," 

It's as if Nominus can't handle himself. His optics dart to Sentinel and Jazz as of judging if it's truly safe to discuss anything in front of them. Apparently it is, as he continues on, "Intelligence has just received an urgent report from one Prowl stationed on Optimus Prime's repair team." 

Across the room, Sentinel stiffened, the designation of his old 'friend' dragging his attention to Nominus. Similarly, Ultra Magnus adjusts himself in the captain's chair, optics bright as he takes in the ramifications of such a simple statement. 

Jazz, on the other hand, feigns a lack of interest. He knows Prowl from their dojo days, he reminds himself. Optimus Prime is meaningless to him. 

Internally, he's trying to find a way to get his servos on that report. 

Ultra Magnus is quick to start typing away at his personal console, "Do we have a location? Was this… Expected?" 

_ Was this part of a previous loop?  _

"Affirmative on both accounts," Nominus Prime reports. "It's a week's travel by space bridge. I'll send over the report immediately." 

Jazz already starts putting together a plan. 

Part one, get his servos on that report. Part Two, have a conversation with Shockwave. 

* * *

“Blackarachnia.”

“Optimus.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Optimus accused, tone familiar and almost joking, “I swear I don’t have cosmic rust.”

Blackarachnia turns towards him, glaring at him as she examined him. He didn’t look the same- frame bulkier, battle mask constantly up and lacking any faction identifier. She didn’t understand him anymore-- couldn’t read his frame and tells like she used to. He’s changed. 

“Well you of all mechs should know why I’m not to keen on playing nice. What is it you want?”

The Decepticon base is quiet to the point its unnerving. Originally she had tried to find some quiet, away from the planning and construction. It doesn’t feel right that Optimus has come in and turned her entire life around all over again. She doesn’t care if he’s some immortal time traveller, it doesn’t erase what he’s done to her. 

“I want a favour actually,” He says and then seems to rethink his phrasing, “Actually theres someone I want you to meet.”

From behind his pedes, something small emerges. It’s no taller than her shin at best and stares up at her with wide eyes. It’s organic, making something in Blackarachnia revolt. Despite its innocent appearance, Blacharachnia wants absolutely nothing to with  _ organics  _ anytime soon. 

“You think organic pets are in good taste?” She spits. 

Optimus shakes his helm, “Techno-organic actually. Sari, this is an old friend from my academy days. Blackarachnia, this is Sari.”

The little girl doesn’t look techno-organic, but she knows looks can be deceiving. She knelt, crouching down to examine the human a little closer. It’s faint, but she can hear here systems, though quiet and muddled, they’re there. 

She stands immediately, looking to Optimus for confirmation. 

Instead, the little girl speaks, “Optimus says you can teach me.”

“I’m not a sparkling sitter,” Blackarachnia sneers, “I don’t even get what you’re asking!”

“Obviously, Sari can’t come with us on the mission. I thought you might enjoy teaching someone like her-- like you,” Optimus’ optics upturn and she can tell he’s smiling as he speaks, “Besides, there’s something else about Sari you might find interesting.”

The girl-- Sari, looks up at him excitedly, almost bouncing if she asks if she can show the big spider lady. 

Optimus nods but chastises her, “Not everyone is as excited about being techno-organic as you are Sari. Her name is Blackarachnia.”

Without missing a beat, she pulls something from her shirt that Blackarachnia doesn’t recognize. It’s small, silver, and looks suspiciously like a key to a manual lock of some sort. Despite not being impressed, the girl seems excited to a point that’s almost endearing. 

“What is it?” Blackarachnia asks. 

“The All-Spark key!” Sari announces proudly. 

Which means absolutely nothing in context. Thankfully, Optimus finds it within himself to explain. “It’s a key endowed with energy from the All-Spark itself. It revived me from deactivation once, healed a multitude of others, tried to destroy all organic life, and transformed Sari here into a superweapon.”

Blackarachnia crouched once again, looking over the key that came with it. Could this fix her--

“No. Last time you tried it on yourself, it lead to the whole organic destroying thing.” Optimus said as if he could read her mind. Or perhaps they’d simply had this conversation in another time loop. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t find some use for it. And I’m sure Sari here would love to help. And if she just happens to learn a thing or two from you along the way, well then there’s no harm in that.”

Blackarachnia’s optic darted from the key to Optimus and back again. It would have much more use on the battlefield, especially if it can revive the dead. But the deal is almost too good to pass up. Sure maybe now it couldn’t heal her but maybe with a few adjustments--

“Why?” She asks.

That made Optimus pause and for a moment it seemed like he didn’t really have an answer. But something seemed to come to him as he thought. 

“Well if I’m not willing to forfeit Sentinel’s or my own lives as retribution for destroying yours, then perhaps I should try and give you another chance at your own. Besides, I do really need someone to take care of Sari.”

This wasn’t at Optimus anymore. No wonder she couldn’t understand his motivations or read his tells anymore. Whatever had happened to him, had changed him dramatically. 

“I’ll do it, but not for your benefit. And you won’t be getting the key back until I’m done with it,” She amends to their agreement. 

“Agreed,” Optimus smiles behind his mask again, “And don’t worry. I’ve got other plans.”

Somehow, the statement came off more menacing than Optimus likely intended. But whatever it was, she wasn’t obligated to get involved. 

She had a techno-organic to look after.

* * *

Jazz examines the streets of Kaon with a critical optic as he and Blurr walk its streets. It's odd to be here while the city isn't under siege and half-ruined. It's odd the way the city reminds him of betrayal most of all. It haunts his processor of Sentinel's blackmail and the old Kaon arena where they had his from Megatron. 

Jazz never going to be in that position again. His alliance is firm he assures himself. He just prays to whatever deity is listening to that Optimus trusts him. 

But he supposes that's what this little visit is about. 

He doesn't like using Blurr like this. It feels a little manipulative. But Optimus once leveraged Blurr and Shockwave's messy relationship to gain Blurr's trust so Jazz decides its justified. And if he just so happens to find out how Shockwave has been contacting Megatron then that's just a happy accident. 

"How are you feeling about all this?" Jazz asks, trying more so to distract himself rather than to comfort Blurr. 

"Honestly, the closer I'm getting the more I want to punch the fragged in the face," Blurr hisses, his pace picking up slightly. 

"You were that deep huh?" Jazz asks as he attempts to keep pace, "Slow down. I'm not a speed frame you know." 

"You wouldn't get it," Blurr cuts the conversation off there but slowly his pace. 

Jazz doesn't, but he does remember what happened in the last loop. Shockwave has it hard for Blurr but his duty always came first, even if that meant keeping Blurr offline as a living communication hub. What he didn't know was how hard it had been for Blurr when he had first found out he was Fragging a 'con. 

But guessing by his reaction Jazz had some ideas about the speedster's feelings for his old commanding officer. 

As they enter the prison, Blurr's s nerves seem to get to him. 

"Thank you, for arranging this," Blurr fidgets on their way into the elevator. 

Really, this was mostly for Jazz's benefit anyways. Not that Blurr knows. 

"You deserve closure. I'll admit I might have some selfish reasons myself," Jazz presses the bottom floor as their escorts enter the elevator with them. 

"Yeah well, so long as I get to crack that stupid optic of his I'll be satisfied. Really, do you know how creepy it is to think he was looking out of that fore helm gem the entire time? It's no wonder he always complained of depth perception issues," Blurr rambles. 

The elevator starts moving, jostling as it starts. Jazz prays it's had maintenance done recently but by the horrid rattling it makes as it moves he knows its unlikely. Afterall, Trypticon wasn't exactly made for mechs to get out of it. 

Decepticons went here when Autobots wanted them gone and forgotten. 

"Well don't let me stop you," Jazz glanced at their escort, a larger Autobot likely assigned here for his size alone, "Probably giving the mechs around here a break anyways. Apparently Shockwave hasn't been cooperative."

Their escort let's put an amused huff.

The elevator comes to an abrupt stop, jerking all three of them. 

He lets Blurr prepare himself in silence as they're guided to the interrogation room. Jazz doesn't stall but he takes inventory as they pass through a cell block. Only some of the Decepticons are familiar to him but none by name. He stays emotionless, field even as the Decepticons are whistling and catcalling both of them. 

The noise fades as they enter a smaller hallway and then disappears entirely as they enter the interrogation room. 

Shockwave's already knelt in the middle of the room, stasis cuffs keeping him tethered to the floor. His helm raises and that unnerving red optic brightens at the sight of them. It's obvious even with his stoicism that he wasn't expecting to see either of them, especially Blurr. 

Jazz smiles at their escort, pressing a servo as he would with Sentinel in that flirty way as they enter the room, "I owe you one before I leave. I'll stop by the break room." 

Fragging a mech so close to the Magnus is a privilege and Jazz have every intention of using his position to his advantage here. 

With that promise in place their escort lets himself out, locking the door behind him. 

They're alone but not unmonitored. He takes inventory of the two cameras in the room. He's sure Blurr does as well but it's not concerning. The Autobots are getting more and more lax as they gear up for war once again. 

The evidence is already in front of them. 

Shockwave doesn't look like he's been repaired since he's arrived. He's dented, and part of his shoulders playing has completely been removed. There's evidence of electrocution as well, though it's mostly just burn marks around his joints. Though it's against the Autobot Decepticon treaty the signs of torture are obvious. Jazz has no doubt that it was under Nominus' order. 

Shockwave is too high profile to not get information from. 

Shockwave doesn't speak, but neither does Blurr, so Jazz makes the first move. 

Open palmed, with his field alight he closes the gap between them and slaps Shockwave against the side of his helm, aiming for his communication array. It's still intact, thankfully which means he can activate it if he can plug in. 

He extends the wire from his medical port and bent down, servo searching for Shockwave's medical port. 

He struggles, no doubt it's not the first time an Autobot has violated him in this way since he's arrived. But Shockwave doesn't know it's for his own benefit so he lets him struggle. 

"The frag are you doing?" Blurr spits, coming forward enough to finally be in reach of the Decepticon. 

Jazz finds the cover he's looking for and pops it open, jacking in smoothly. He looks over his shoulder at Blurr and offers a smile, "They've likely deactivated his vocalizer. Thought you might wanna chat with him." 

Most of the malicious code Shockwave must have been carrying was likely removed when they took his access to his comm array when he arrived. Still, Shockwave tried to push back against Jazz, but nothing gets past his firewalls. Jazz doesn't make it very far either. There's no way to steal data from the intelligence mech but he can get enough access to free both his vocalizer and short range comm array. 

The surprise is almost malleable as it bursts through Shockwave's field.

Jazz unplugs before Shockwave gets any more ideas. 

"Agent Blurr," He croaks. It's likely his vocalizer has sustained damage as well just in the way it half spits static. "To what do I owe the visit?" 

Jazz scans the few Decepticon frequencies he knows from his time among them and sure enough, Shockwave is projecting an emergency signal on one of them. Jazz tunes his own frequency to match it and sends an uncoded message over it. 

:: You owe the visit to me actually::

Shockwave's optic immediately darts to him and he stares, coming to realize the permission to use his communication suite was no mistake. 

Jazz steps back and lets Blurr vents his frustrations. 

He spits on Shockwave, looming over him at his full height. Jazz imagines it's therapeutic to loom over someone who's hurt you. In his mind's eye, he replaces Blurr with himself and Shockwave with Sentinel and he can almost taste how it would feel. 

_ Someday,  _ he tells himself,  _ someday. But not today. _

"Agent Blurr, I can explain--"

"You don't need to explain anything. You're a Decepticon. You used me. Sent me on missions and kept me close so you could feed information back to your Lord," Blurr hisses. 

Jazz decides he should join in before Shockwave loses focus entirely. He moves to the far wall, leans up against it and crosses his arms. 

::I know Blurr means a lot to you Shockwave. You should thank me, I'm Fragging the captain of the guard to get him in here, ::

Shockwave didn't spare him a glance, optic focused on Blurr intently. He doesn't vocally reply to Blurr, letting the mech vent his frustration as he focuses on Jazz. 

:: Something tells me your intentions aren't exactly innocent. Why are you here Jazz Minor? And why have you brought Blurr? :: He comms withough any outward indication. 

::He's a cover, Autobot high command is watching. Though I ain't gonna deny a friend the chance to get back at his ex. I'm gonna be honest Shockwave. I need information and I'm gonna let Blurr here do whatever the frag he wants to you until I get it:: Jazz comms back as he rolls his shoulders. 

Blurr slaps him, but unlike Jazz does it with enough force that Shockwave's helm snaps to the side. His voice raises when he speaks again, "You used me! Took me to your berth! All of those things you said… you manipulated me! How many other mechs did you whisper to late at night as Longarm?! How many other mechs did you court to your berth?" 

:: Hurts more from him, don't it?:: Jazz goads. He knows the emotional torture will hurt more than the physical. 

:: He was a pawn,:: Shockwave comms exactly as he says, "You were a pawn Blurr. Get over yourself."

:: Harsh. Watch your tone, this isn't gonna be the last time you see the mech. Wouldn't you rather make up?::

As Blurr brings his knee up to smash against the Decepticon's faceplate, his gaze snaps to Jazz once again. There's a satisfying crack as the glass takes the brunt of the force from Blurs knee. Shockwave let's his helm lull forward, vents snapping open to try and cycle air. 

:: Illogical. Blurr will not return once he has vented his frustrations. It would be an exercise if futility to try to regain his favour.::

:: You're right. Blurr ain't gonna come back here. But I know Megs isn't going to want to leave his greatest security leak in prison for much longer. And you and I got a common interest in getting you out of here.::

It's mostly a lie. He doesn't actually know what Megatron's plans are, but it seems Shockwave would be high up on the list of priorities so he runs with it. 

"You Fragger!" Blurr yells, then turns to pace the length of the room twice. Jazz winces as the speedster's field hits him. It's a literal storm; completely unreadable but entirely negative. 

:: Comfort him,:: Shockwave admits in weakness:: Why did you bring him here? You knew it would upset him.::

:: Not your concern. I need information Shockwave. No one breaks out of here until I can contact Megatron and Optimus Prime. So how did you do it? How did you contact Megatron.::

Blurr whirls around out of his pacing once more and raises a servo to hit him once more but falters. It's obvious there was something more between them than was acceptable for Autobots and Jazz’s processor wanders to Bumblebee and Blitzwing for a moment. 

"You know how I felt! You used me! Speak Frag you! Tell me why that was okay!" Blurr is close to shrieking at this point, stressing his vocal glitch as he repeats the same message in different words over and over. 

::This is manipulation. This is simply another torture meant to break me. You will not succeed Jazz Minor. Better mechs have tried to get me to speak. All have failed.::

Jazz shrugged a shoulder, the only outward indication of their conversation up poo this point. 

::It is. Sure. But not because I'm feeding information to the Autobots.  _ I need to contact Megatron.  _ Me. Personally. Ain't nothing about selling you or him out. I know about Brainstorm in the science sector. I know about Strika's plan to attack the outer rims of Autobot territory. I know you're in love with Blurr. This isn't Autobot versus Decepticon anymore. Things have changed in the last month. I need to know how you contacted him Shockwave.::

It was subtle, but Jazz saw Shockwave try to take a shaken vent. The infallible, emotionless infiltrate was hopefully breaking. He should have deleted his emotional subroutines like Perceptor. Then Jazz wouldn't have had anything to prod at.. 

"I hate you!" 

:: Give me the  _ fragging _ information Shockwave!::

"I'd kill you if it wasn't a war crime! " 

Shockwave's entire frame sags, :: On my personal console. You'll need to replicate my comm signal to access it, but it's there.::

Jazz shoved himself from the wall, immediately placing himself between Blurr and Shockwave. He places a servo on Blurr's chest plates, steadying him and stopping his frantic pacing. He keeps his field even and comforting for both of them. Behind him, Shockwave let's out another rattle of his vents. 

"Enough Blurr. Stop before someone gets any more suspicions about your relationship." 

That stop Blurr in his tracks but does nothing to calm his oppressing field. 

:: You won't regret this Shockwave. Keep an audial open. You have one week before things start getting hectic.::

Now he just has to frag that guard and they can get out of here. 

* * *

When Prowl gets a comm directly from Megatron himself, it comes as a surprise. In the past, any orders have come through Optimus and the sudden change is more confusing than anything. On top of that, the order itself is vague and Prowl doesn't know what to do with it. 

::Come to the mountain base immediately. Someone here wants to speak with you.::

Its short, brief, and Prowl has no idea what to do with it other than obey. It feels entirely odd that Megatron is weaving his way into their command chain all of a sudden, and he suspects it has something to do with Optimus leaving late at night and returning early in the morning almost every night now. 

Well, if taking Decepticon spike is helping him relax then Prowl really shouldn’t complain. 

He makes it to the mountain base, feeling somewhat nervous using the front entrance so casually even though the Decepticons guarding it pay him little mind. Their glares, though subtle are still present though and if he has to guess it has something to do with the Blitzwing incident. 

He’d be suspicious as well if he didn’t know the entire story behind it. 

When he makes it to the main chamber it’s obvious Strika brought supplies with here. They have a proper communications console now though it’s definitely Decepticon sized. Megatron is standing in front of it, flanked by Starscream and Optimus whom by the murmuring seems to have just arrived as well. 

Ah, so that’s when Megatron comm-ed him personally. 

“Who was it from?” Optimus asks, optics wide as he looks up at the screen. 

Prowl follows his gaze, not exactly piecing together what this is all about until he sees the screen. 

It’s a message-- long-range from what can gather from the identification code. 

“It’s Shockwave’s terminal code,” Megatron crosses his arms as he explains, “Along with the private frequency he used to contact me while on Cybertron. Normally, it wouldn’t be of note except for the fact that Shockwave’s been arrested.”

“And what’s up with the message?” Starscream snears, “Who the frag is Swerve?”

> \---------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Terminal ID; 3304197
> 
> Outgoing ID; 3304570
> 
> \---------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> 4,590,245/23/06
> 
> Shockwave has been compromised. 
> 
> I have been to Swerve’s. 
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> End Transmission
> 
> \---------------------------------------------------------------

_ Impossible. _

“Brainstorm?” Optimus guesses, “He’s the only other Decepticon operative I know of.”

“Impossible. Brainstorm didn’t know Shockwave’’s identity. No one did,” Starscream rolls his optics and motions up to the screen.

“The first part is a date, obviously. And we were already aware that Shockwave had been captured,” Megatron offers, though it’s little information. 

Prowl knows exactly who it is though, and he approaches to get a closer look, just to make sure. Starscream hisses when Prowl pushes him out of the way by his hip. But the text doesn’t change at all and a warmth pools in his spark. 

“It could be a trap. If Shockwave has been interrogated then it’s possible he gave up the frequency. Though they could be a little more direct if they wanted to trick us.” Optimus shrugs. 

“Impossible,” Megatron says, “Shockwave would rather deactivate rather than betray the cause. He’s unwaveringly loyal.”

“It’s Jazz!” Prowl blurts, moving in front of all three of them, “Swerve’s was an underground bar that he and I raided. That’s what the last line means, he’s trying not to blatantly say who he is.”

“And how do we know this isn’t just an elaborate trick?” Starscream asks. 

“Neither Zeta nor Nominus were involved in that mission, they shouldn’t even know who Swerve is. He must have seen my report,” Prowl explains. And though that covers the sender and who exactly they’re dealing with, it doesn’t decipher what the date means. 

“So it’s Jazz,” Megatron glares at him, “your little traitor. Disregard the message.”

Prowl’s spark drops. Jazz has reached out and they’re just going to disregard what he's saying because of what happened the last loop. They can’t, he  _ killed Sentinel Prime for them _ . He opens his mouth to protest, but Optimus beats him to it. 

“No, wait. Don’t disregard it just yet. Jazz may have had hesitations in the past but I don’t believe he would risk sending us a message this secretive if it wasn’t important. He could have just as easily tried calling the Orion on a private frequency. He’s obviously contacted Shockwave in the very least. We should hear him out.” 

“The date,” Starscream huffs, “If the second line is trying to tell us that Shockwave has been compromised, and the second is an identifier, then what is the date for?”

“It’s Cybertronian standard, but Jazz didn’t spend enough time on earth to learn the conversion to Earth’s system,” Prowl points out, “Once you do the math, He’s naming next Friday.”

“Isn’t that around when we expected the Steelhaven to show up?” Starscream asks. 

“Well it seems your little traitor wants us to have a welcome party ready from his arrival,” Megatron smirks.

* * *

"One more time. This had to go perfectly. One more time," He repeats, pointing to Prowl. 

Prowl wants to roll his optics but if it eases some of Optimus anxiety then he'll run through it one more time, all of them will, "At the first sight of the Autobots You, Ratchet, bulkhead, Bumblebee and I will arrive in Detroit to meet them." 

Megatron crossed his arms, annoyance also pooling off his frame though Optimus can tell he's holding back on actually saying anything about it, "I will be waiting on earth's moon with the rest of the Decepticons we'll be using Strika's warship while the Nemesis is being repaired."

Optimus was next, "I will be searched, questioned and arrested along with Ratchet. As soon as we leave orbit I will make a move for the Magnus Hammer." 

From the couch, Bumblebee grumbled, "Bulk and I will cooperate with whatever Magnus wants us to do." 

Back to Prowl, "From then on out I will actively aid the Autobots. No comms. No contact. We can count on Jazz being there as well, but we won't be of any help from that point on." 

Megatron nods to Strika, who's caution has turned to suspicion over the course of the meeting. Optimus should address it, but there's no time. The Autobots will arrive tomorrow and they need this to go  _ perfectly.  _

Strika sighs through her vents but participates, "Once the Autobots have pulled out of the earth's stratosphere we ambush them. Grounders are to be the boarding party which will be under my lead while any fliers will be our extraction team. My ship will draw most of the fire. Starscream will take the helm and keep a small crew on board in case we have to make a quick retreat." 

"I will lead the extraction team. It's an in and out mission. We will land in the landing bay of the Stealhaven after the boarding team. We will be responsible for getting Optimus', team off the ship as well as extracting the boarding team. No mech left behind." Megatron finished.

Optimus sighed, finally satisfied. But anxiety prods him on once more. 

"Just one more time. I promise. Prowl…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... that angst though. I warned people in the comments! It's going to get messy. 
> 
> Next Time!
> 
> It's friday. And I'm at target. I mean, I've got nothing going on, so I think to myself, 'It's a Friday, I got to do it one more time' 
> 
> (if anyone gets that reference I love you)


	3. According to Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't go according to plan.
> 
> Well they do. Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahha
> 
> Sorry I didn't edit properly because I'm away on vacation but here it is. Typos galore.

:: It’s three ships. The steelhaven is taking point, :: Strika reports, using a decepticon log range frequency that Optimus isn’t exactly used to. It’s a little harsh on his comm array, but he knows it would be worse without his recent upgrades. 

Despite the harsh delivery, the information is valuable. At least now they know exactly what they’re up against at least in scope. He suspects it’s the Steelhaven and two transports rather than heavy weaponry. It’s easy to guess the Autobots are going for numbers rather than firepower, Prowl only reported five Decepticons in his report. 

:: Stay hidden until I defer command. It may be awhile given how this last encounter went.:: He responds. Though he doesn’t receive a response he knows they’ve heard him. 

It’s tense while they wait for the Steelhaven to land, and the warehouse is tense and mostly silent. It’s the first fire fight they’ve been in since Cybertron and though none of them are excited to jump back into it, there's an acceptance that it needs to be done.

Optimus hates to admit it, but his engine is almost purring with the prospect. Planning is one thing, but it all coming together in a perfect storm is a feeling he’s learned to love. 

He blames Megatron for that. 

“It’s three ships,” Optimus retorts to the rest of the group, “I’m going to guess they’ve brought a battalion with them as back up after last time.” 

“A battalion Optimus,” Ratchet hisses, “How in the pit are we supposed to get off of that ship in one peice let alone with the Magnus hammer and All-Spark all in one go?”

Well, if he’s being honest, he’s relying on the fact that the Decepticons are much more maneuverable in open space than the Autobots could ever hope to be. And because Safeguard hasn’t even been created yet, he knows if it comes down to a chase that they can win. 

“I have a plan, I promise,” Optimus says.  _ Yeah, barely. But it’s a plan.  _

“He’s taken down Ultra Magnus in the past,” Prowl joins in, “ _ and _ Starscream at the same time. If it comes down to a fight we’ve got firepower and surprise on our side.”

“I should be coming,” Bumblebee grumbles from his spot. 

Ratchet’s already thrown his wrench before Bumblebee can duck, and it hits him square in the back of his helm with a THUNK. 

“After that stunt you pulled with Blitzwing!? You’re lucky we’re just putting you under house arrest!” Ratchet yells.

Bulkhead moves over, rubbing Bumblebee’s back softly as he clutches his helm. For a moment, Optimus thinks about intervening but thinks better of it. Bumblebee  _ shouldn’t  _ have lied to them. That’s the main issue. The whole bonding aspect was likely punishment on its own. 

Forever bonded to somemech who hated you. 

For a third time, Optimus reminded himself to never fall into the trap of bonding. 

“It’s more complicated than that and you know it!” Bumblebee yells back, “You didn't even ask why we bonded! He risked his life for me!”

Optimus doesn’t know how Bumblebee can still defend a dead mech, but he knows it's his cue to stop the infighting before it escalates anymore. 

It’s sad, really. None of them can blame Bee for being so upset. Near the end of the invasion Optimus was starting to accept Blitzwing. His literal undying loyalty carried them through Iacon, and if anything it was his sacrifice against Safeguard had cemented his approval. 

It was a shame really, that he was dead. 

“Blitzwing was a good mech, Bumblebee. Really, I would have vouched for your ritus if I had the chance. But Blitzwing isn’t the issue here,” He explains. 

Ratchet huffed, planting his servos on his hips and grumbling the end of the sentence for him, “You lied Bumblebee, and if you had told me at first we could have avoided this whole situation. But now you got yourself into this mess and you can deal with it.But we’ll alway be here--”

The ground shakes suddenly, cutting off Ratchet and drawing all of them onto high alert. It shakes them out of the conversation and into the moment. It’s obvious what it is, and immediately he goes to comm Strika. Apparently, Ultra Magnus has no qualms about hesitating this time. 

:: The Steelhaven has arrived. We’re engaging,::

* * *

PThey pulled up to the Steelhaven and transformed. Optimus never was completely steeled this time, knowing exactly what to expect. It's easy then, when the forcefield comes to life around them. Slowly, the loading ramp folds down and he's met with a scene that's all too familiar. 

Ultra Magnus stands opposite him flanked by both Sentinel Prime and Jazz. It's imposing to have them on the high ground but it's completely superficial-- in a moment Optimus will be up there too. 

Albeit in cuffs, but up there nonetheless. 

He activates his axe. He's going down sure, that's part of the plan but he had to make this convincing if they want Prowl to be accepted into the elite guard. And this time Magnus knows he's hostile, there's no point in putting up a facade. 

Sentinel Prime looked down at Optimus and grinned, "Nice to see ya old friend. Good to see you're doing well."

Oh it was going to feel good to wipe that smirk of his faceplates later. 

Optimus smiled behind his mask, "Why are you here Sentinel?"

Sentinel continued his smirk as he walked down the bay ramp towards Optimus. His smugness and over confidence would be his downfall. Sentinel was no issue at all, what was more threatening was Ultra Magnus looming on the deck behind him. 

"Well we were supposed to come here to investigate an All-spark signature. But that would have to wait for a few formalities. What didn't have to wait for a few formalities was an arrest."

Behind him, Bulkhead took a step back, not as used to standing his ground as the rest of them. Ratchet doesn't budge. Prowl seems to want to move forward with him. 

It's weird how he and Magnus are putting on this show for the others benefit. They both know why they're here, but they keep up this pretense of an arrest. The longer it takes, the moe it feels like a secret conversation. 

Optimus twirls his axe and wonders what exactly Magnus knows. Assumably Nominus had guided him somewhat, suggesting the reinforcements. It’s also possible Magnus knows that Optimus has killed him before. He wonders if that scares his old commander. 

Being scary isn’t something ever thought he would be, but he supposes it comes with the territory of working with Decepticons. 

Sentinel pulls his weapon as well, his sword and shield coming online easily as he approaches. For as much as Optimus knows he can win this fight, he knows must as well that he must lose. Getting on board and getting the Magnus hammer are top priority. 

“Who used to have the better simulator scores?” Sentinel Prime taunted. 

Optimus rolled his optics. 

"Sentinel Prime, stand down," Ultra Magnus commands from the deck, taking Optimus by surprise, "I'd like to invite Optimus on board  _ peacefully  _ before we accidently cause a galactic incident for no reason." 

_ This was not going to plan. Not at all.  _

Optimus swallows deactivating his axe as Sentinel offlines his own weaponry. Both of them are weary and fall into an expectant silence as they await some sort of new order. It's a reflex Optimus catches and takes a step onto the ramp defiantly. 

_ You aren't my commander. You can't humiliate me again.  _

Sentinel follows as soon as Optimus makes his move, not one to enjoy being taken as aback as he found himself. The entire situation is suspicious, and Optimus assumes it has something to do with Nominus' orchestrating the entire thing. The uncertainty is new to Optimus but it's just something he's going to have to live with now. 

"I'm not a mech you can order around anymore Magnus," Optimus says, but his pulled in field speaks volumes to his uneasiness. 

"No, apparently you're not," Magnus is as unreadable as ever, "Jazz. Take the others and retrieve the All-spark. This trip will not be in vain." 

When he reaches the top of the ramp Optimus realizes for the first time just how dramatic his reformat was. He's still not quite his old commander's height but he's definitely gotten closer to it. 

Jazz moves down the ramp, and Optimus is thankful for the fact that they  _ don't  _ meet optics. He's steadfast in a way Optimus isn't used to; no unsure waver to his field or movements. Yet whether that steadfast change is in their benefit or not is still yet to be seen. He's hoping it's because he knows just how delicate the entire situation is for them at the moment but it's entirely possible that Jazz has just led them into a trap once more. 

He can only hope it's the first option. 

"Ratchet comes with me," Optimus says, optic to optic with Magnus. 

"I suppose that's amiable," Magnus says. 

Ratchet had already started to ascend the ramp anyways, his older joints making his almost stomp on the incline. Thankfully, Ratchet remembers the script. 

"Who was it? Who sent the report?" 

Optimus' optics dart down the ramp to Prowl who's gone still even as Jazz stands in front of him. He, thankfully, looks stiff and awkward enough naturally to look guilty. 

"That Cyberninja you picked up ain't exactly the loyal type," Sentinel says. The way his voice drips with a smug attitude only seems grating where it once may have been intimidating. But, it's obvious he's put off by what's happening as well. 

"Come," Ultra Magnus says, "I'm sure neither of you have had real energon since arriving." 

* * *

Prowl can't help himself. 

Once they breach the water and enter the Orion, he wraps his arms around Jazz and squeezes probably a little two hard. Jazz jumps, but once he realizes it isn't an attack, he wraps his arms around Prowl as well although a lot softer. 

"Ha. Missed ya too Prowl," He jokes. 

"You have no idea," Prowl pulls back enough to look Jazz in the visor, "holy frag. So much has happened. What's happening on Cybertron? How did you get Shockwave's console codes?" 

Jazz smiles, and for the first time in a while it feels genuine to Prowl, as if he's not hiding something for once. It's a relief, and it's an expression Prowl can trust. It's a good sign that they may be on the same side.

"I may have had to pull a few favors in Trypticon. And well, I had to get Blurr involved for Shockwave to even consider making a squeek. But he talked eventually," Jazz rubbed a servo over Prowl's back affectionately. It's the most open they've been with each other and it brings up feelings Prowl has long forgotten. 

"Cybertron is a little more complicated. I made a full report for Optimus to look over once I'm back on cybertron," Jazz says as he pulls away, looking to Bulkhead, "Enough about me. What's Optimus' plan?" 

Prowl releases him as well, although reluctantly. He didn't know how much he missed the contact until this last month. He won't say that out loud, and he focuses on squashing down whatever physical craving this is as Bulkhead fills Jazz in on the plan. 

"Using the moon to cover a Decepticon warship. Huh. Smart," Jazz moves to examine the Allspark, "But what do you mean when you said Optimus had plans for this old thing?" 

Bulkhead shrugged. He said, "Don't know. He had me do a few readings but that's about it. Far as I can tell he hasn't even told Megatron." 

"Odd, but how is the old bucket head?" Jazz asked, picking the Allspark up and moving it towards the exit. He lumbered with its weight, awkwardly staggering as he attempted to walk. 

Prowl trotted over, grabbing one of the handles in an attempt to distribute the weight between the two of them, "Megatron is himself, though he and Optimus have been meeting secretly at night. We suspect they may be Fragging." 

Jazz scoffed, "Well at least Optimus might be a little less… " 

"Like he's got a crankshaft up his aft and someone has hooked it up to a hydrogen engine?" Prowl deadpanned. 

"Yeah. That," Jazz chuckled. He and Prowl let go of the Allspark by the landing as they prepared to head out. 

"Are we good to go?" Bulkhead asked, already headed towards the airlock, "I don't like leaving Optimus and Ratchet alone for this long." 

"This is OP we're talking about," Jazz shrugs, "He's gonna be fine." 

Bulkhead shifted on his pedes a bit, still on edge. "Still. A lot could go wrong."

Prowl agrees, but feels the need to rationalize, "It will be okay Bulk. This isn't the most dangerous thing we've done. Everyone's gonna come out of this online." 

* * *

Energon tasted good. 

Which shouldn't have come as a surprise. It had only been a few months now since Optimus had tasted the stuff. While he was aboard the Nemesis it was a standard ration but he supposed the situation was what made it all the better. 

Well, perhaps it was the view of Sentinel trying desperately not to go on an angry tirade as he, Ratchet, Optimus and Ultra Magnus sat sipping it in the loading bay. 

Small victories. 

Once Sentinel had fetched their fuel and they had made themselves somewhat comfortable in the awkward silence, Ultra Magnus decided to get the show on the road. 

"If I'm being honest I didn't expect you to come quietly with the way Nominus spoke about you," he said, standing opposite both Optimus and Ratchet. The positioning had to be strategic as he put himself between them and the exit. 

Optimus tore his attention from Sentinel, "Nominus and I met on bad terms. There was a lot going on at the time."

Sentinel scoffed. 

"You got something to say over there?" Ratchet snapped, clearly not as amused as Optimus with the situation. 

"No," Sentinel snapped, "just don't think we should be talking to criminals out in the open. Though we have a brig only one floor down." 

Optimus sighed, pushing air through his vents in exasperation. He knew the situation was stressed at best, but of course everyone just had to be at each other's throats as usual. 

"Why am I not being arrested, Ultra Magnus?" he cut in, hopefully defusing the situation. 

Ultra Magnus seemed to hesitate, optics glancing down to his fuel as if uncertain how to proceed. At last, he spoke, "Nominus asked me to offer a way out before this went any further. He and I happen to be knowledgeable on how to remove the Matrix from a bearer without it being fatal. All you would have to do is join us back on cybertron for a few vorns during your recovery. Then, you may return to doing whatever you wish, even join the elite guard if you're inclined." 

Optimus gripped his cube. 

_ It would be over just like that. No more bloodshed.  _

This was the last thing he had expected when he had come aboard. He could walk out of this scott free. No war, no more deaths or time loops or trying to weasel his way through trying to survive anymore. In an ideal universe, he'd give in and that would be the end of it. Desperately, he wants that. 

He and his crew could just walk away from it all, run off and join one of the few neutral colonies left. They'd deal with Bumblebee's bond, Prowl could still go to cybertron to be with Jazz if he wished and Ratchet could retire finally. 

But what of Optimus? What was he without this? 

And what would happen to the Decepticons? To Megatron? 

"Is that what you did to Nova? He said he used to be Prime and was betrayed." 

The observation made Ultra Magnus go stiff, servos clenching around his cube of Energon just as tightly as Optimus'. "I didn't know you had been in contact with that  _ traitor.  _ Nova Prime has a long history. I assure you, if you're willing you won't end up with any more scarring than you already have." he said. 

Funny. Megatron always called Megazarak the same thing. Maybe they had more involvement in this whole situation than Optimus first thought. 

"It was a while ago," was all Optimus was willing to give away about it, "But it's safe? You're sure?" 

Ultra Magnus' shoulders fell back, posture relaxing. It was as if he thought he had won or gained something, his entire form relaxed with the victory. And maybe in a sense it was. 

"Entirely," Ultra Magnus stepped forward, servo out stretched to clasp Optimus' shoulder, "It's safe. It's over Optimus. It's time to come home." 

Beside him, two strong fields bristled. The way both Sentinel and Ratchet both became defensive could not be a good sign. Sentinel had the self preservation or perhaps respect for Ultra Magnus to stay silent. 

Ratchet did not. 

"Woah, Woah, Woah. No one is going anywhere. Optimus I think you really need to think this through--" Ratchet started. 

Ultra Magnus did not seem to see the need for a third party though, "Ratchet. Wouldn't you rather stop a fourth Cybertronian war if you could help it?" 

Ratchet flinched back. How could someone argue with that? 

"All I'm saying is that you and Nominus don't have the best track record of being direct," Ratchet pointed out, "You lured us into Iacon and killed a mech as a power play." 

Optimus took a step back, out Of Magnus' reach. 

_ It sounded too good to be true, Ratchet had a point. Something wasn't right. _

"I didn't do anything. You can't blame me for actions that I never committed," Ultra Magnus' lip twitched the only real tell he gave of his ire. 

Optimus took a vent in, not so easily swayed. He wanted to point out that he had already promised Megatron the Matrix anyways, but didn't want to give up that alliance so easily, "Why was Alpha Trion keeping this half from you?" 

The commander froze in place, optics turning cold as he looked down at Optimus. His lip curls up higher, "If we're on the topic of things that happened in the last time loop, I'd like to bring up the fact you're not innocent yourself Optimus. I'm quite interested in knowing exactly how I died, since Nominus wasn't too sure of the details. Was it my helm you cracked open? Or my spark chamber?" 

"You did what…?" Sentinel whispered beside them in a tone that made Optimus pull back a second step. He'd only sounded like that when Optimus had confessed to loosing Elita One back on aracha-7. 

Ratchet came forward, plating raised as he stepped between them. "Enough of that. Enough. I thought you were trying to come to an agreement here."

"Nominus is," Ultra Magnus hissed, "It wasn't exactly my idea to play nice. Now, if you know what's good for you, you'll give up your half of the Matrix without question" 

"You had shot a mech under my care at point blank range. Straight through the helm. Starscream had just ripped another mechs helm straight off. Needless to say, I was upset." Optimus' plating bristled and a warm courage filled his lines. 

_ You can't scare me anymore. I killed you. You're nothing but a ghost.  _

"Nominus probably omitted the part where the part where I ripped both of your spark chambers open. And if I had the choice, I would like to prevent both of your deaths going forward. But I will do what I have to. It's been that way for the last three hundred years and I'll continue doing it. I'm not scared of Megatron. I'm not scared of Starscream. And I'm not scared of you."

"You should be!" Sentinel snapped

Ultra Magnus' took a sharp, offended vent. He stiffened, but kept his outwardly calm disposition.

"Five Decepticons will not help you," He says, the familiar authoritative tone coming back to his voice, "we have an entire battalion. We outnumber you almost 20 to one." 

"I'm flattered you think you need so many mechs just to handle me," Optimus tried not to sound too confident and failed, "and whatever will we do now you have us on board?" 

"Sentinel Prime, escort both of these mechs to the brig and put them under stasis immediately. Contact Jazz and the other Autobots. We have to prepare for a fire fight." 

_ Good. All according to plan.  _

Optimus sent out one last comm before Sentinel could offline his communication suite, :: Ratchet and I are proceeding. I will be unable to communicate. Engage when ready, Megatron.::

* * *

Bumblebee was not going to be left behind. 

No. Way. 

He took a page from Optimus' book: come up with a convoluted plan to get him exactly what he wants. In this case, that means hitching a ride on the shuttle Strika and Cyclonus took up to the warship in orbit, get on board, and join in the fighting all without getting caught. He had to be quick. Optimus and Ratchet would kill him if they found out and getting on a cramped shuttle with Megatron's highest ranked General and a time traveler was not going to be easy. 

He lodges himself inside one of the vents before Strika and Cyclonus even arrive. It's a Decepticon ship after all and it's not hard to find a place to wege himself where the door is in view and he's up and out of sight. 

"-- has the ship in place, commander. By the thirteen I hate all of this waiting," Someone below him grumbles. 

Cyclonus and his commander show up just as Bee gets himself settled. Strika takes a place standing at the front view screen while Cyclonus takes the controls. If this was anything like The Orion, they'd be behind the moon in a matter of minutes. All Bumblebee had to do was sit tight for a few moments. 

"Well, let's just hope this Autobots plan works. If not Megatron and I are going to have to have a chat," Strika sighs, optics set on the screen ahead of them, displaying outside. She crosses her arms and leans against the wall even as the thrusters start to engage. 

Bumblebee stops himself from defending Optimus before it blows his cover. 

"It will work," Cyclonus says vehemently, "Optimus Prime does not loose." 

"Prime. Prime. Prime. What in the pit does Megatron think he's doing working with a Prime? Does he not remember Nova and Megazarak?" Strika huffs mostly to herself, though Cyclonus takes it as an invitation to continue. 

"General, if I may be frank--" 

"You may not," She shuts him down immediately, "The more that comes out of your mouth the more I suspect you a traitor, Cyclonus. You are young and stupid. You don't know what you're talking about." 

They took off, with a lurch, though Strika didn't seem to notice. 

"Strika," Cyclonus tries again, "We have to trust in Megatron and that means trusting Optimus Prime." 

There's a large rush if air and Bumblebee suspects it's a vent Strika had been holding awhile. But, with it goes some of the tension in the cramped pod. 

"You're right," She says, "We have to trust Megatron." 

It's quiet the rest of the flight but Bumblebee knows its tense between the two of them. Thankfully the ride is short, and they land in the orbiting ships docking bay with little fare. They jerked once more as the ship rested in its dock. Only then the two decepticons disembarked. 

Bumblebee follows, squeezing out the closing door right before its shut and ducking under the ship to avoid any mech who may have been waiting for them. If he remembered correctly, Megatron was leading the retrieval team. He just had to find out where exactly they were and he could slip in with them. 

Strika's warship was larger than Bumblebee expected. The landing bay itself could probably hold several more shuttles if required. Its much like the Nemisis than he expected-- lights low and garish purple walls along with a constant buzz of warframes preparing for battle. It's familiar in a weird way, but all new at the same time. 

His size is an advantage, especially as he slips from under the shuttle towards the next one. The Decepticons are too tall to notice him as he dips behind repair machinery and shuttles towards the port side of the ship. 

There aren't many mechs wandering the hall, to the point bee suspects that the ship might be understaffed compared to its maximum hold. Bumblebee grumbled softly to himself as he attempted to navigate towards the command deck. 

"kinda spooky… " Bee mumbles as he presses himself against the wall of the hallway. 

When they had been aboard the Nemisis he and Blitzwing had spent most of their time in the medical bay. And when he hadn't been curled unto Blitzwing’s side, he'd been with Optimus or Prowl figuring out their next moves. 

Alone, the large proportions make Bumblebee feel small; like prey in the middle of an open field while predators surround him. He almost debates opening up his bond once more, but he squashes down that thought immediately. The only thing worse than being in a Decepticon ship was being in a Decepticon ship with a mech who hated you. 

Why did he even come here again? 

Oh. Right. Optimus on the steal haven. He was trying to help. Right. 

Each step feels like a willing step deeper into the bowls of the ship. He just needed to find Megatron and the retrieval team and it would be alright. Megatron wouldn't hurt him, not while he and Optimus were still all buddy-buddy. 

The sound of pede steps tares him from trying to calculate exactly how angry Optimus and Ratchet would be with him when they found him with the Decepticons. He panics, looking for a vent to hide in, or at the very least a door to run into. 

But the hallway is long, empty, and poorly ventilated. 

White, black and yellow plating turns the corner in front of him, freezing him in place. Red optics immediately meet his own as if this predator has been expecting to see him, yet the way he pauses suggests he's more surprised. Despite the mechs he could have run into on this ship, Bumblebee recognizes this one immediately. Not due to personal experience no, but from a certain medic whom couldn't seem to shake this mech no matter what he did. 

"Deadlock," he tries. 

Deadlock squints at him-- a judging gaze that gives Bumblebee the distinct feeling he's being assessed. 

"Either you're an Autobot well versed in decepticon command structure or you're one of Optimus," Deadlock saus slowly, optics still raking over Bumblebee's frame. 

"Optimus'! Just uh-- checking in for him," Bumblebee smiles, holding up his servos innocently. He tried a smile, but Deadlock doesn't seem to buy it. 

"One of them was an obnoxious yellow…" 

Deadlock stalks over, though Bumblebee suspects that's just his default demeanor. He's smaller than most decepticons, but that doesn't mean he's any less aggressive or dangerous. He stops in front of bee, optics still squinted in concideration. 

And then very suddenly, his servo grips the piece of collating at the back of Bumblebee's neck and lifts. 

Despite the fact it brought him up to Deadlock's optics, an indignant yelp rushed out of Bumblebee's vents. He was not a child, though Deadlock seems to discard his protests. 

"For an Autobot speed frame you're kinda slow," 

Bumblebee sputters, "Put me the frag down! Now! " 

"I'm sure Megatron will know which side you're on," Deadlock hums, holding the smaller mech out in front of him, "And he's not too fond of spies no matter what side you're on." 

And so Bumblebee found himself being carried like a wet, stray cat deeper into the Decepticon ship. Arms crossed, he swayed lightly as Deadlock whistled down the hall, acting like he was delivering a package. He holds him out, as if Bumblebee might give him a case of 'Autobot-itis' or something. It's degrading, but no amount of flailing convinces him to drop him. 

Oh he was going to kill anyone who took a picture. 

He's just about to start screaming (screw any of the other Decepticons that might hear him) when they turn one last corner and the hulking mass of Megatron comes into view. 

It is a relief short lived as the entire room of Decepticons turns to stare at him. 

"Great," Megatron grumbles, "A stowaway." 

Bumblebee shrugs, chuckling nervously, "Hey megs, got room for one more?" 

* * *

The stasis pods are familiar in a way. Optimus could not settle, not easily at the very least. He shifts as much as he's allowed, and fiddles with what systems he can online, turning them on and off as he fidgets in wait. Ratchet is silent in the pod beside him, giving them both time to think in the large, Decepticon sized stasis pods. 

"Megatron will come," Optimus says aloud. He knows it's mostly for himself, a steadying mantra to calm his nerves. 

"He will kid. Hate to say it, but yeah. He'll be here." 

"Do you think Ultra Magnus meant it?" He asks next, trying to formulate what plan he can. He knows it doesn't matter. The Matrix is promised to Megatron and in his spark he knows it's for the best. Ending this million year war is for the best. 

"Doesn't matter," Ratchet says beside him, "It doesn't matter. I don't trust Nominus and neither do you. And Ultra Magnus seems angry enough to try and kill you even if you did give that thing over to them. They can both take it up the aft for all I care. " 

Below them, there was a rumble of the engines, and Optimus suspects it's Prowl and Jazz returning with the Allspark. It's another milestone in their plan that Optimus can tick off the list. The next was their takeoff and then it will all go to slag. 

Despite having a backup plan if this all went to slag, Optimus still felt anxious, like something just wasn't falling into place. 

"That'll be the ninjabots. It'll be okay Optimus," Ratchet remarks. 

"Something doesn't feel right," Optimus insists, "Why am I not being interrogated--" 

The door to the brig opens, interrupting their conversation. Light from the hallway illuminated their visitors silhouette, defining him immediately. 

Sentinel Prime walked steadily into the room, looking up at the surveillance system as he approached the stasis pods. His gate was stiff and reserved, though it wasn't his hesitance that worried Optimus. 

It's the blaster in his servo. 

Weapons grade, it would melt decepticon plating. Compact, it looked like little more than a pistol. 

"How could you," Sentinel whispers. His trigger finger slides down the side of the gun, tapping the lever. 

Optimus doesn't reply. 

"First I find out that you killed Magnus," He seathes as if he's about to start foaming at the mouth, "And then I find out we can't even  _ kill you _ . What kind of sick irony is that?" 

"Sentinel. You know killing me isn't an option, put the gun away," Optimus begs. 

Sentinel simply brings the pistol up, checking the safety once, making a show of it. 

"I should have known you'd try something after you got what you deserved after elita," Sentinel spat. 

"Sentinel--" Ratchet attempts. 

"Shut it!" he barks, looking back to Optimus, "You know what they're gonna do to you right? Rip your spark out, put it into a support chamber for eternity. For so long, no one will even know who you are anymore. So long, I'll have already chosen my successor for Magnus." 

Optimus lays back in his pod, waiting for the gun shot. He musters enough of a steady bravery to respond, "Elita-one is alive. And you didn't even bother looking for her."

When Optimus first entered the academy his first instructor-- Kup, gave his troop some advice. 

_ "Don't care what propaganda they're feeding you kids now," Kup took a long drag of his cygar, savoring it for a moment, "It's not all glory out there. It's messy. So here's some advice that will save your life: If you can still hear the blaster shots, keep running. You don't hear the shot that kills you. So just keep running 'till you can't hear it anymore."  _

Optimus heard this blaster shot.

He didn't feel any blistering heat, no immediate darkness either. For a click, Optimus continues to wait, even as the smell of burnt circuitry enters the room. The realization of what's happened-- what Sentinel came here to do, burns his spark from the inside out. 

"You're a bad liar Optimus," Sentinel shrugs, lowering the pistol as he lets his arm go loose, "I'm telling the truth when I say they'll keep you alive. But your team? Well, Magnus says we have no use for war criminals." 

Optimus turns his helm slowly as if delaying the inevitable will bring Ratchet back to him. But all that meets his optics is gray plating and Ratchet helm blasted open, Oil splattering the cell behind him. His entire frame is slumped over, leaning as if tired but his optics are still open and confused as if he's looking for meaning in his own death. 

Optimus laid his helm back, Sentinel's taunts fading into the background as the ships engines clicked into a higher gear. 

They were leaving earth. 

"Megatron will come," he whispers, like a mantra. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahhahaha sorry.


	4. I am an Animal at Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Ratchet gone, the team has to pull the pieces together and try to pull off the plan anyways. But even that leaves them feeling alone, unsure, and desperate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you for being patient with me. I also want to say stay safe and stay healthy. It's important that we do our part right now to manage Covid-19 and stay safe. Stay in if you can. And enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> Unedited as usual

Megatron does the one thing he thinks will do the least amount of damage in this situation. When Deadlock holds out the familiar Autobot towards him, he takes him. He thinks for a moment about leaving Bumblebee on the ship, but if anything happens to him while Megatron is gone, Optimus will likely blame him for the entire issue. That, and he suspects Strika might shove him out the airlock and call it an accident just to be rid of one of them. 

And the last thing they needed was a panicked or worse, vengeful Optimus on this mission. 

So Megatron decides taking Bumblebee with him is probably the best course of action here. But that doesn't mean it doesn't come with its own set of problems. 

"Call me 'Megs' again, and I shall have your helm mounted on my berth," He threatens. 

Bumblebee, still being held by the back of his collar sticks his tongue out, "And won't that just crank Optimus' gear shaft the next time he sneaks over for a frag." 

If the mech wants to be difficult so be it. There are punishments he can think of that are well within what Optimus will find acceptable. He smirks, staring down the minibot and letting his processor come up with something creative. The smirk must be something wicked as it seems to cull the Autobot into silence. 

"Well, if you're so intent on being difficult," Megatron starts, abruptly dropping Bumblebee on his aft, "Blitzwing! You can take Bumblebee here on as a partner. Just don't leave him with too many dents please, last thing you want is another axe to the shoulder." 

There, put both of their stupid helms together. Perhaps they can work this whole bond thing out at the same time. 

Bumblebee's optics darken once, and then again as Blitzwing’s shadow fell over him. Something unreadable covered both of their faceplates and all Megatron could do was assume they were communicating something over their bond. 

Whatever it was he doesn't want to know, nor does he want to deal with it. 

He turned back to the other preparing Decepticons, leaving the two of them to deal with whatever they needed to in order to be operational for the mission. By now the Stealhaven was on its way Into position and they were running out of time for preparations. 

"You have 5 clicks to be ready," He barks to the room, "Any mech not ready will be left behind, and gets on shift with Starscream for the next vorn!" 

There's a clatter before him, and Megatron returns his attention to cleaning the intake of his fusion cannon. 

_ I will be there soon enough Optimus, just hold on. _

* * *

Optimus Prime was not holding on. 

Sentinel's blaster shot had not been silenced. Because it had not been silenced, any and all aboard had likely heard it. Meaning Jazz and Prowl were likely on their way and Optimus didn't exactly want them to blow their cover so soon. Not only that, but he didn't find being restrained beside a corpse very calming.

In fact, it makes his spark constrict in on itself, the open space around it filling with anxiety. 

Ratchet would have told him to vent, to focus on his systems and try to make sure he was functioning properly. But that was the issue. Ratchet was dead. 

The door to the brig makes a whoosh as it opens, revealing not only two shocked and confused visors but an uninterested pair of optics as well. Ultra Magnus, Jazz and Prowl enter the room immediately. 

What happens now… Happens. Things transpire, but they happen around Optimus, who still can't bring himself to even look at Ratchet's frame. There's yelling-- specifically Prowl and Sentinel but someone steps in quickly to play moderator. It's as if Optimus is on another side of a screen, watching what was going on but never really interacting. 

His spark constricts painfully and Optimus can at least focus on that. Mentally he tried the same words Ratchet once said to him,  _ vent. Where are you? What is happening?  _

He answers himself silently as he would his medic aloud. He counts three long drawn out vents and then answers, _I'm on the Stealhaven_. _I got myself captured so I could steal the Magnus hammer._ _Sentinel is still yelling, but now Ultra Magnus is glaring at him._

It drew him back to the present at the very least. Perhaps Ratchet has a point with those questions. 

_ Or did. Ratchet Is dead.  _

The constriction in Optimus' spark lets go and releases with it a wave of emotion. Reality slaps him, making him cunch forward in on himself as far as the stasis cuffs will allow him. Reality is crushing as that screen he's operating through smashes, leaving Optimus as an actor in the real world trying to imitate the proper response in this situation. 

_ Vent.  _

He counts three more vents and then attempts to online his vocalizer. It's then the actual noise in the room comes to him. Vague noises become words, and those words get defining tones, and those tones sound like specific mechs. He has no more time to panic, he has to lead somehow. 

The panic is still there-- it makes his processor swim in cruel ways, but he swallows it just enough to make sense of the situation and speak. 

"You are a fucking idiot," He manages, though it doesn't have the usual bite of his determination behind it. 

Sentinel snorts, but the rest of the room doesn't seem as flippant. Jazz and Prowl know better than to be, and Optimus can only imagine trying to keep their facade up while staring directly at Ratchet's corpse- _ vent.  _ Ultra Magnus, on the other hand, is familiar with the events of the past loop. He knows where this goes-- one death leads to retribution and onward in a cycle. 

"Me?!" Sentinel snaps, looking between the four of them, "Magnus said himself what the conviction would be!" 

_ Ah. So Magnus was planning on killing them. Just after a trail back on Cybertron.  _

"With a fair trial!" Prowl snaps, "He was a medic-- defenceless! And you just-- just--" 

"Shot him point-blank," Jazz mumbles, optics locked on the greying frame beside Optimus. 

"Enough!" Ultra Magnus snaps, bringing a servo up to wipe down his face in frustration. He takes a vent before giving commands, "Sentinel go to the bridge and calm down. The two of you, prepare for stasis. I will deal with the… frame. We may still be able to pull the Omega codes from his processor." 

Sentinel fumbles, the information not quite computing, "you mean… he was…"

"Valuable. Yes," Ultra Magnus sighs, "We will have to retrieve the Omega Sentinel at a later time. We're to return to Cybertron immediately. The Decepticons are nearby." 

Optimus wouldn't call it divine intervention. He was not naive enough to assume Primus had finally taken pity on him. Optimus Prime is not stupid enough to think his prayers were finally answered by some God who had put him in this situation in the first place. 

He would though, silently thank Megatron and Strika for their beautiful timing. 

The Stealhaven rumbled, and very suddenly the lighting around them turned red. A siren started to wail, grabbing all of their attention and forcing it onto the matter at hand. Generally, the entire warning system was meant to rouse a sense of urgency in a mech. But instead, It forced a whole new vent into Optimus' systems that tasted like relief. 

_ Megatron was coming for him.  _

Silent anxiety left him. Not the one regarding Ratchet's death--  _ vent _ \-- but the one where Megatron left him to the Autobots as a way to dispose of him. But no, he would only be alone a little longer, then he could curl up on Megatron's chest once more and sleep soundly. 

Well. Not quite. But that could wait until this was all over. 

Ultra Magnus starts with orders, "Prowl…. no. Jazz, Sentinel, both of you secure the Allspark. Prowl, you will come with me to the bridge. I suspect there will be a hail waiting for us."

There was a flurry once more as they left the room. Optimus almost doesn't want them to go because now he's alone. 

Alone with Ratchet's corpse. 

_ Vent.  _

* * *

Whatever Optimus was doing was working. Megatron didn’t exactly know what he had done, but they had gotten significantly close, even taking a few shots at the support ships, before the Stealhaven even turned towards their direction. 

Strika confirmed when they were close enough for a drop-off. There would be several clicks to cover what was likely a mile or so of open space to make it onto the Stealhaven's hull. It was definitely a risky maneuver with two additional ships between them and their target but it was doable. 

"A hundred Autobots," Deadlock scoffs at his side, "We're about to tear through three ships for your little pet. I hope this is worth it." 

Megatron considers telling Deadlock that Ratchet is aboard as well and leveraging that emotional response if he has to. He's seen Deadlock at his absolute worst; manged, hopped up on some substance and tearing through mechs with his bare servos in a rage. And they could use that sort of firepower now. But the risk of Deadlock attacking the wrong Autobot is too high. Bearing any sort of drastic change to the plan it' s not a risk he's willing to take. 

"Yes," Megatron simply states. He decides a moment later Deadlock might take that as a dismissal and continues, "We need the Magnus Hammer and getting our spies in place is critical to our success in the long run." 

Deadlock gives a sweeping glance to the rest of the drop team as if their enemy is already around them. Immediately Megatron's plating roused up in concern, feeding off Deadlock's field. 

They're both stood at the front of the team, waiting for the drop doors to open. It gives them a good look at the twenty others, though Megatron can't tell what he's looking for exactly.

He leans in, dropping the volume of his vocalizer so he's only heard by Megatron, "Pardon the insubordination sir, but Are you doing this because you want to? Or is that Autobot spreading his legs for you?"

Megatron straightens, field souring enough for Deadlock to wince under its pressure. He doesn't need to speak for his subordinate to get the point; you do not question Megatron's orders. 

"It isn't just me," Deadlock says as his plating slicks back in submission, "Mechs are asking questions. Mechs are talking about Nova and Megazarak--" 

"You will not utter their names in my presence again, is that understood?" Megatron snaps, fusion cannon charging out of habit. 

"Of course my Lord--" 

"Now, you're going to make yourself  _ useful, _ " Megatron's vocalizer drops as well and he leans his helm down to meet Deadlock's face, "I don't have you around to question my decisions. You're going to take that hit of Syk I know you keep around and you're going to get onto that ship. Once you've proved you can do more than just garble at me, you're going to find Optimus Prime and Ratchet both and bring them out alive or it will be your helm." 

"...Ratchet? From… From..."

The metal doors in front of them hissed as their pneumatics released and cracked open. Blaster fire lit up the entranceway as Megatron finished for him, "Vaporex. That stupid medic you have an obsession with. Now, Move!"

He gave Deadlock a hard enough shove that he staggered through his exit, barely pushing off hard enough to reach out of the ships gravitational mechanism and into the fall towards the Steelhaven. Megatron followed though he angled himself a lot more gracefully as he dove, engaging his thrusters. He held a servo out, catching Deadlock by some kibble on his back, jarring them both into motion. 

Seekers joined them quickly after that, pulling forward and transforming with a grace Megatron could never pull off. The faster they were the less likely they'd get taken by a sniper, and no Decepticon would find honour in dying on a backwater planet in such a small skirmish. 

Deadlock on the servo fiddled with something in his servos and Megatron watched him open his medical cover and plug something in. 

For a moment he felt bad. But the small pang of regret left him as soon as blaster fire flew past him a little too close to his helm. He'd have to get Deadlock back in a stable condition later, hopefully with a medical exam from Ratchet as well. 

Megatron always found free space anxiety-inducing. The vacuum meddles with his internal pressures, heightening them to a point where his lines bloated slightly. 

The worst of it was the silence. 

Though his communication hub buzzed with hails and barked orders, it was eerie how the open void swallowed up noise. The ongoing batter was silent despite the chaos and bright lights of blaster fire. The sooner he was back in a controlled environment the better. The quiet left him dangerously alone with his thoughts.

If the crew was already mumbling about him and Optimus the comparison to him and Magazarak would be the first thing to come to their helms. He needed to squash that bit of concern down quickly lest Strika becomes angry again. 

Starscream trying to kill him was one thing, a mutiny was entirely different. A mutiny would mean an Autobot victory. 

He was already trying to figure out how to stop the gossiping and potential fall out when they hit the side of the Stealhaven. Already the seekers who had been ahead of them were prying away through an emergency access door. Without the ship's specific specs this was their best bet aboard, though it would put them at a tactical disadvantage. 

They scattered as Megatron planted himself on the door. He swung Deadlock beside him so he could hold himself still as He blasted the door open. 

The few of them couldn't fight the pressure change and were dragged in immediately, jumbling into a heap as they hit the Stealhaven’s gravitational systems. Megatron shoved whoever had landed on him and greeted the dimmed red light of the ship under lockdown. Under it, they all looked to be different shades of maroon or bright reds, making it hard to tell who’s limb was whose. 

Megatron only waited for the first few to right themselves before moving down the hall to find a more defensive position. He knew the ship would be sparsely manned, but they met no resistance even as they moved deeper into the ship. Most of them save for Deadlock (Who’s high had yet to really hit him) had to duck or crouch through most of the hallways or door frames. 

“This is...” someone mumbles behind him. 

“Not right,” Megatron finishes with his canon raised as they turn the next corner, “Optimus should be looking for us. Keep your guard up.”

There’s no noise coming from any part of the ship that Megatron can pick up on. Through that alone Megatron can only think up two conclusions;

Optimus Prime has already taken control of the ship and is trying to contact him for a cease-fire or--

Or Optimus can’t do either of those things for some reason and Ultra Magnus doesn’t have enough of a crew to take them on and is hiding. 

Deadlock somehow finds his way back to Megatron's side, though now he's a lot more fidgety and Megatron watches from the corner of his visual feed as he itches at his medical cover. He's anxious, and Megatron realizes he likely made a mistake in his anger. 

When the emergency lighting dims once more and enlightens, Megatron can make out something in front of them. It's the size of an Autobot, and Megatron doesn't hesitate to raise his cannon as the lights catch the lighter details of its plating. 

"Megatron?" 

The vocal tone is familiar, and instead of shooting his servo darts to his side to stop Deadlock from getting to trigger happy. Prowl approaches with his servos raised. The red lighting really only catches the gold of his plating and makes his visor look purple instead of blue but it is obvious he's on their side by his approach. 

"Where's Ratchet?" Deadlock demands, pressing insistently against the servo holding him back. 

"Listen," Prowl says though it's stiff in an unusual way, "You're going to have to take me down. Magnus isn't trusting right now but you've got to get to the brig. Optimus needs someone to claw him out of the slag he's in. One floor down. Two rights." 

Prowl looked behind him, visor brightening, "If Sentinel finds me here I'm dead. Hurry. Please." 

Megatron doesn't need to give the order, he simply let's Deadlock go. Like the strung up warrior he is, Deadlock darts into a swing, bringing the back of his gun up and slamming into the side of Prowl's helm. Megatron lets him get in a second hit before pulling him off the collapsed mech. 

_ Something was very wrong indeed.  _

The brig wasn't hard to find. The door opened to stasis pods large enough to hold Decepticons; only two of which were occupied. Purple optics met his own and Megatron ducked into the room swiftly. A sword to the control panel had Optimus falling into his arms, legs catching him at the final second. 

In the red lighting, Optimus looks as if he's aged several millennia since they've seen each other last. He looks worn, and it's a surprise he isn't barking orders. 

"Optimus?" 

"I'm relinquishing command," Optimus' gaze is hard and cold like there's no spark behind them. 

"What?" Megatron tries to sound like he isn't floundering as much as he is. 

Optimus' servo is surprisingly gentle as it nudges into Megatron's own. He lets him, wanting to understand exactly what's going on. But just as suddenly as he's reaching out, his grip is harsh, pushing his digits open, and taking the sword from his servos. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm relinquishing command of whatever forces were under me. Take them, take the Allspark, take The Magnus Hammer, take Ratchet and get out of here," he says, lifting the short sword out of his servo, though it measures up closer to a great sword compared to his frame. 

Optimus pushed past him, glaring at any other mech in the room before Megatron caught his wrist. "Where are you going? "

Optimus stops, helm bowing as he responds, "We're taking Sentinel prisoner. And if not prisoner, we're taking his  _ helm _ ." 

Optimus yanks away, strutting out of the brig, carrying Megatron's sword with an intent he's never seen Optimus have in his field before. 

Turning back to the other stasis pod Deadlock is blocking any view Megatron had. His plating is slicked down, and the upper in his system is still making him twitch. But his helm is down also, and he's muttering something into the cell. 

When Megatron moves around him, he realizes Deadlock is mumbling  _ to the medic  _ a series of ' _ you were here _ ' and ' _ I never got to even thank you. _ ' The red lighting reflects off Ratchet's plating but it's dull and uniform, not catching where there was once white on his frame. 

There's a hole in his helm. 

_ Not again.  _

Megatron wheels around, barking at the others, "We move to the cargo hold! The Allspark is our priority. Ultra Magnus takes precedent after that." 

He turns back to Deadlock, his own plating slicking down, "Bring the Medic's frame. We will give him a proper burial." 

* * *

:: Stop hooking your pedes there!::

Bumblebee digs in harder, gripping Blitzwing’s plating with a vengeance,:: If I let go I will fall into space! Don’t think Megatron will be too happy about that!::

Sometimes he forgot how difficult Blitzwing had been. 

:: You're stuffing my vents up!:: Blitzwing snaps at him though Bumblebee knows its a lie. He's ridden Blitzwing like this often enough to know where to hold on. He’s sure Blitzwing is just saying it to piss him off.

Blitzwing banked left suddenly, making Bumblebee’s left pede slip out of place. To compensate he dug his digits into the base of Blitzwing’s mounted cannons, drawing a sharp stutter of his vent. 

:: You’re hurting me!:: Blitzwing growls as Bumblebee feels his flight engine kick into a higher gear. 

Bumblebee wants to yank off the canon in frustration,:: Well if you’re going to toss me around then I’m going to have to hang on tighter dumb-aft!::

It hurts to know that this would all be resolved if he would just re-open their bond and use it to direct their flight dynamics as they used to. But he also knows that would only make Blitzwing angrier and may get him actually thrown into open space. 

A light of blaster fire shoots past them, removing the tip of Blitzwing’s wing. He turns sharply as his wing tries to compensate in an attempt to keep them on a direct path. Instead, It throws them into an unpredictable flight path, separating them from the rest of the group. 

Bumblebee doesn’t hesitate, he locks in on the wound and angles his body to try and brunt some of the force as they sweep down below the main action. His scream is eaten by the void below them as he clings to Blitzwing’s back. 

:: Lift! Lift! ::

:: I am trying, insect! You don't think I know how to fly?!::

He tries to think, tries to make out exactly when he can do to get them back on course back towards the Steelhaven. If not, they have no way to stop moving and they'll drift unpredictably until they both freeze or run out of fuel. It's a terrifying fate, one that will engulf them both if they don't figure out a way to patch him. 

He needs to balance them both somehow, and need to do it quickly, without argument. 

Bumblebee opens the bond. 

The incoming data is immediate and overwhelming. From the pain to the anger, to the fear-- it all came pouring down on him like a tidal wave. He refused to let it drown him, instead of using it to identify exactly how he needed to counterbalance their weight for Blitzwing’s control. He rummaged in his subspace, looking for any supplies he might use to stop the energon loss. 

:: Hey hey, I think I can stop the energon loss if you slow us, or maybe if you bank left a little more--:: He tries, calmly. 

Blitzwing, faceplates still red with anger distinctly isn't calm,:: If you weren't here, I wouldn't have gotten shot! Now close this damned bond before I rip you apart for even trying to use it against me! ::

_ Against him?!  _

Instead, Bumblebee  _ yanks  _ on it, using it to even their flight as well as prove a point. And then daringly, he  _ pushes _ in order to make Blitzwing understand what exactly he's doing.

:: Unless you want to drift alone in space for eternity, you'll bank left and let me balance you!:: he all but yells across the comms. 

Blitzwing says nothing, but shifts his rudders and curves left, raising the wounded wing with a grudge that had minibot rolling his optics. Bond still open, he guided himself into a comfortable position for both of them as he set to work. Igniting his stinger on the lowest level and cauterized the wound closed with a swift, motion. 

Blitzwing poured static over the comm line, visor going dark for a moment before flickering back to life. 

:: I am going to  _ kill you _ as soon as Megatron becomes tired of that leader of yours::

Bumblebee's spark  _ aches _ , and he can't cover it by closing their bond-- not unless he wants to move his weight around randomly. Instead, he tries to cover it verbally. 

:: Yeah, okay, sure. Doubt that. Now can we please get back on track? We've drifted far enough as it is. ::

Blitzwing ignores him but does guide them back on course to board the Steelhaven. 

* * *

There are 4 mechs aboard the Steelhaven. Two of which are of no threat to him. Ultra Magnus will be a challenge now he knows Optimus is capable of handing his aft to him. He'll be on guard, likely carrying more than just the hammer. 

And then there is Sentinel Prime. 

Optimus didn't like the thought of labelling a mech worthy of death-- he had been on the other end of it far too many times to designate who deserved to live. But Sentinel was proving to be a threat that damned others to suffer, and for that Optimus could justify removing him permanently. 

It felt wrong at first-- judging Sentinel for something he hadn't done, namely killing Minimus and Bulkhead. But he didn't have to now. With Ratchet's blood on his servos, the was no question that Sentinel would keep killing if given range to do so, and it seems Nominus Prime was willing to give him just that. 

And that was on top of what happened back at the academy and the way he treated Jazz. 

Optimus' resolve is cold. It's a sterile thing, driven by facts and realities that paint a very hot, very emotional painting. And though both things whirl around in Optimus' spark, they are separate things pointing to the same conclusion. Sentinel Prime was a threat that wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone he cares about. Sentinel Prime was also a threat because Optimus was furious to a point he may not be acting rationally. 

Megatron's sword was too large for him, and it drug behind him as he marched down the halls, headed for where he assumed the Allspark, and Sentinel would be. 

Very quickly pede steps joined him, catching up and matching his pace. 

"Worst high of my life," Deadlock hissed, a large rifle raised in his servos. 

"The frag are you doing here?" Optimus snapped, not ready to let his rage settle. 

Deadlock scoffed, but Optimus realized he wasn't lying about the high. Something yellow swirled in the reds of his optics, making him look even more menacing under the glare he held. His trigger finger twitched on the trigger constantly like he was itching to tear things apart, but didn't have a target yet. "Ratchet didn't deserve that." 

A flare of his ire directed its attention towards Deadlock and he hissed, "You didn't  _ know him.  _ You have no right to speak about what he did and didn't deserve." 

Deadlock growled, adding a turn of his engine as if it may intimidate Optimus. It didn't. 

"He saved my life. Once," Deadlock started harshly, but his tone softened, "I was gonna OD, no credits for real medical attention. A friend of mine dragged me to his clinic, prewar. Tried to find him during the war, but four million years passed and at that point, you just stop looking." 

The squeal of Megatron's sword on the metal floor filled the pauses as Deadlock struggled to piece together a coherent story. 

"And then I found out I missed him by  _ minutes.  _ All I wanted was to thank him. And I missed him by  _ minutes. _ "

Optimus frowned. All that stalking? Just because Deadlock wanted to talk to Ratchet? 

"Damn I'm itching for a Fragging firefight. Who's the fragger? Come on come on come on--" 

"He's mine. He's killed too many of my mechs, is too dangerous to be let to do as he wants. You Fragging back off or I'll rip your helm off as well," Optimus snapped at him, raising the sword in front of him. 

Deadlock had the audacity to giggle, a wicked smile coming up on his faceplates as if he had heard some twisted joke, "Well, we'll just have to see who gets to him first hm? Before Megatron comes running after us to ruin the fun?" 

They both took off- Deadlock first with Optimus catching on quick enough to keep pace, even with Deadlock's longer stride. 

The door they come upon is shot open and then kicked down, 

His vision went red as soon as he saw blue plating. He raised the sword above his helm and lep, striking down. 

A pole met his sword easily. 

"Improper form for a weapon like that, Optimus," Magnus scolded him as if he was still a cadet. 

His sword glided off the pole and Optimus dropped down into a defensive stance. Blaster fire joined them next as Deadlock dove into the room, his optics now a deep orange as he seemed to peak, "Which one of you fraggers killed my medic?!"

There’s only five of them in the room, yet Jazz wasn’t a threat in any way given he kept to their side this time. He brought up his sword as Deadlock fired upon the room, having no real aim as he took his frustrations out on the world around him. 

Making a grab for Sentinel was going to be a lot harder while trying to dodge friendly fire but he’ll have to manage. 

"Your first Fragging mistake was thinking there were only five Decepticons on earth," Optimus sneered, "The second was killing Ratchet." 

Deadlock laughed as he fired, aiming for Sentinel and Jazz. The noise in the cramped space cut off any real conversation this time. Optimus though he likely would have burst if he had to withstand another lecture. 

Optimus went low again, but Magnus was learning, blocking there while trying to keep his vulnerable seams out of reach. But no one could say that Optimus wasn't adaptable. Magnus was learning sure, but it was still awkward and stilted and he would have to take advantage of that fact. 

Magnus swung, bringing his hammer around to try and hit his side. He stepped back but that only put him at more of a disadvantage with the distance. His sword was much shorter than the hammer, making it impossible to do damage at this distance. 

His salvation comes in the form of blaster fire. A stray shot made Ultra Magnus dodge left and distracts him from another swing, letting Optimus get close once again and stab at his side. In the rush, he lacks weight in the jab and it glazes against his side, glancing off his plating and only nicking the plating and paint. 

A frame came up behind him and Optimus swung around, but his sword met another, strikingly similar one. 

“Stand back!” Megatron yells.

Optimus ducks reflexively. Above him, Megatron’s short sword and Magnus’ hammer collide with a loud  _ clang  _ that rumbles his frame. Stuck between both goliaths, he could only hear as the loading bay became more crowded. He ducked out from between them, watching as Decepticons and Autobots filed in. 

He set his optics on Sentinel, now flanked by reinforcements and still trying to deal with Deadlock. He got two steps forward before things changed drastically. 

“Retreat!” Megatron’s voice boomed both over the room and the comms. 

_ No no, not yet not yet. _

He lurches forward but something stops him and simultaneously lifts him. Optimus kicks backward and swings his sword, attempting to break free from the servo holding him by his back kibble. He only got himself turned around enough to see it was Megatron, grasping both him and the Magnus hammer. 

He yanks him back as he kicks and screams. He’s dragged back the way they came, their mission a success as much as it’s a failure.

* * *

Prowl comes online to a dim room. One of his optics is blurry but he can still make out the white tiling of the ceiling above him. Something off to his left gives a soft ping, followed by the reflection of green light. His helm hurts but the reason why comes back to him immediately, leaving him to wonder about how the plan went. 

“Hng,” He groans as he pulls himself up to a seated position. Something that is laid across him slips down and Prowl finds it to be a sheet of some sort. He realizes he is in a medical bay and Deadlock’s assault comes back to him clearly despite the way his processor ached. 

Jazz’s back faced him but their optics met over his shoulder. The familiar face drew tension from his frame and he immediately relaxed. Jazz sat looking over Sentinel Prime who was offline on a second medical slab. He looked much less intimidating with a blaster hole to his side. 

"Are you feeling alright?" Jazz asks softly, mating the dim of the room with his tone. 

"Helm hurts and I have a blurry optic," Prowl says, "Other than that I'm functional. Are you injured?" 

Jazz shrugs, "about as good as I can be; A few dents and a minor leak. Just…" 

"Just what?"

"It's gonna be hard. You know. Pretending not to care that Ratchet got shot, Or that I don't know you. S'already been hard enough watching you sit there offline," Jazz says as he turns his body to face him and away from Sentinel. 

Something in Prowl's spark constricted and lifted so suddenly that he couldn't tell what emotions they were. In their wake, a melancholy fell over him. He wound his servos in the sheet on his lap and cleared his vents in a sigh. 

“Right, we don’t know each other,” Prowl nodded, “But we’ll see one another? We’re both Cyber Ninjas, we can use that as an excuse.”He didn’t want to vocalize his real concern; that Jazz would leave them for Sentinel all over again. Them not knowing each other hadn't mattered before as Jazz came to see him in intelligence anyways.

He didn’t want to be alone right now either. 

“Kinda wanna see where Magnus has you put first. Having someone as a guard in Trypticon could do us some good right now,” Jazz says. 

Prowl sighs. 

Jazz senses something is up, and his visor softens. He reaches out, brushing a servo against Prowl’s clenched fist. He just lets his servo rest there, and occasionally brushed his thumb up Prowl’s wrist. 

“We’ll set things right Prowl. Ratchet was a good mech; even didn’t want to kill me back after Vos. He deserved better,” Jazz said. 

“You saw Optimus. He’s not playing around anymore. He’ll kill Sentinel next time.”

“Good. I don’t want to frag him longer than I have to,” Jazz spat, “But getting into see Shockwave is easier when I have his and Magnus’ trust.”

Prowl frowns. 

“Hey, someone’s gotta do the dirty work,” Jazz says.

“There has to be a better way. Ratchet would say something about ethics, Optimus would have a plan,” Prowl shoots back. He tried to step back and see if he can peace something better together. 

“You just got wrecked by a Decepticon Prowl, and not in the fun way. Rest, I already got a meeting spot picked out for us. It’s okay, it kinda feels good having a leg up on Sentinel anyways,” Jazz smiles at him and Prowl finds more comfort in that smile than the sheet he’s wrapped in.

Despite what Jazz says, Prowl is already trying to find a way out of it as well as not blow their cover. But Jazz has a point, his visor is still foggy and aches somewhat, making it hard to think on the topic clearly and consistently.

* * *

Optimus drags himself silently to Megatron’s berth that night. 

Ever since they awoke in this time loop it’s become a routine now. Megatron doesn’t question it when occasionally Optimus creeps into his chamber and climbs up onto his chest plates. It's become a comfort and a reassurance that the little Prime has come to trust him. Perhaps not politically, but at least with his frame.

It’s no surprise that Optimus is seeking comfort now. So Megatron allows him to clamber up onto the berth and slide under his insulation sheet. His servos are cold and clammy, but the warlord doesn’t comment on it, or anything for that matter. He’ll allow Optimus to take comfort from his frame if it helps. 

He knows what it’s like to lose someone close to him.

Optimus lays his helm atop his spark chamber as usual though on the odd occasion it’s closer to his main engine. He can only assume exactly why that is but he has a theory. He lets his system idle close to the minimum, providing some noise for Optimus to sleep to. He lets himself drift, trying to let the day wash away with recharge. 

Optimus shifts. At first it’s just a small movement in an attempt to get comfortable. But then it escalates as Optimus spreads his legs to engulf his own and then he sits up, his blue optics illuminating and Meeting Megatron’s own, making the dim light between them a bright purple.

For a moment they just look at each other. The air around them is stagnant as Optimus leans back and adds a definite and deliberate roll to his hips.

“What are you--”

“Shh. Please. Let me do this,” Optimus sighs in resignation. He sounds hollow as if he’s performing a duty and trying to swallow back exactly how he feels about it. It matches his field that’s pulled back so tightly Megatron can’t feel it despite the fact that they're touching. It’s the exact opposite of arousing. 

He rolls his hips again, the insulation sheet hanging from his shoulders and framing how he moves. He brings a servo up to cup his own windshield, then letting it delve down to glide along his waist, then hips, then pelvic array and down onto Megatron’s frame. The motion is obvious, and explicit.

“You don’t want this, it’s-- you’re grieving,” Megatron grips the berth in a show to keep his servos off Optimus on top of him. It’s no struggle to hold back when he knows Optimus doesn’t really want this or assumably doesn’t.

Optimus’ look is still cold, but he puts more effort into the act with a high whine of his engine and a caress to the lower lip of his chest plate. He’s trying desperately to make it convincing though Megatron has seen this from him before. 

“You want something,” He accuses. 

“Just your valve,” Optimus tries and fails to purr. Instead, it comes out strained and faltering. He seems to realize it though, and his shoulders slump and the sheet falls from his shoulders and onto the warlord’s legs.

“No, you don’t. Neither am I interested in your array,” Megatron said, sitting up and playing a servo on the smaller mech’s back to steady him as he shifted. It was only a partial truth; Megatron wasn’t interested in his valve when it was forced.

Optimus looks down to stare at his own servo, still planted on Megatron’s frame. He swallows a mouthful of oral lubrication and slowly his field fans out. 

Where Megatron expects sadness and anger, there's only loss and a weird unease to it.

“What would it take for you to lose this war?”

The question takes Megatron aback. He knows better at this point than to assume something of it until he can see the full scope of the situation. He blinks, swatting the rest of the lethargy from his processor as he answers. 

“Death. If I am alive, if the Decepticons are alive then we will not stop until we or the Autobots fall,” He replied easily. 

“And what would you give to win it?”

“Anything. Everything to bring my Decepticons  _ home  _ without the tyranny of the golden age.”

Optimus’ gaze hardened, the soft sadness of his features solidifying into a hopeless yet decisive emotion that also filled his field. He brought his leg swiftly over Megatron's lap to no longer straddle it but to sit in it, his side coming to rest against Megatron’s chest. It's a familiar emotion yet lacking the fire it had last time Optimus projected it.

“...Do you want to reset?” He asks.

The blue and red mech snorted, finding something about the concept ridiculous, “I had to beg Primus to let me have another chance when you killed me, Megatron. There are no more resets. No more going back to set things right.”

“You mean--”

“What has happened, has happened. For the first time since this has all started I actually wish I could go back if only to prevent myself from doing what I’m going to do,” Optimus pressed his audial above the gray plating just above his spark once more and shuttered his optics to listen.

He desperately wanted to ask what it was that he was going to do partially because he wanted to know if it was grief driven and partially because he needed to be prepared for it. He simply needed to know, but he knew if he asked he likely wouldn’t get a straight answer anyways. Or at least he assumed so.

“I want you to take me,” Optimus said as his optics relit, “Make me a Decepticon again. I am not fit to lead. It has only gotten mechs killed; Blitzwing, Minimus, Bulkhead and now Ratchet. I don’t deserve to lead anymore. Magnus was right. I am no hero and I never was.”

Megatron stalled. He managed to raise a servo to rub up and down Optimus’ back in an attempt to be reassuring. His own field pulled in as he attempted to decide how to respond. 

“I thought you would be happy. I’m a good tool, you know that. And now that I’m no more special than any other warrior I should be treated as one,” Optimus gave him a sad smile as he looked up at Megatron, their optics finally meeting.

“You’re grieving,” Megatron argues without a beat, “It’s not a decision you should make lightly, nor is it one you should try to frag me for. Stop this.”

Optimus brought his far servo up and laid it on Megatron's chassis and patted it softly. A full-frame shudder crossed his plating as Megatron watched him try to hold back the wall of emotions he was trying so desperately to conceal behind his flirtation and disregard. 

"It was my plan Megatron. And now that Ratchet's gone I don't trust myself to be stable enough to lead, or plan or scheme," His vocalizer choked on the words and he gives a little hiccup as he tries to continue, "He was going to teach Bee field medicine. I was going to propose a joint medical team to try and integrate-- He was always there, Megatron. I feel like I'm going to suffocate without him here to tell me to cycle my vents." 

Fluid pooled in his optics, threatening to fall at any moment. This time Megatron shushed him, rubbing his back in an attempt to slow his thoughts even a little. 

Optimus gave another little hiccup, and then his tears did fall, shining a soft purple in the light of their optics. 

"Why did Primus pick me?" He asked, and then a hurry of words followed it, "What will it take? For you to brand me again? I'll frag you. I'll let you spike me. I'll give you anything, please. The Allspark, the Magnus Hammer, my Datapads. Just… just I need someone else to take the reins. Please." 

Megatron did the only thing he could. 

He disagreed. 

"No,"

Optimus looked up at him with wide optics, his plating flattening. 

"You can not tell me Optimus, the most recent Prime chosen to lead Cybertron is giving up. Nor can you tell me you don't have some sort of plan. I am no fool," He stated. Despite the chastisement, he still held Optimus closely. 

"You don't believe in Primus or the succession of the Primes. Ratchet is dead, Megatron and it's my fault," He argued. 

"Then be the one to fix it. Don't wallow in defeat. Rise up little Autobot," Megatron raised his other servo, laying a digit under Optimus' chin and lifted it slightly, forcing him to keep his helm held high. 

Optimus blinked at him. 

Megatron leaned down, and as Optimus tensed he placed a small hiss to the top of his helm and recreated once more to give him space. 

“I’m not Autobot,” Optimus scowls. He touches the spot where Megatron kissed his helm but doesn’t revolt like usual. 

“Yet you’re not a Decepticon either, and there aren't many more choices for a Cybertronian,” Megatron grunts as he lays back, pulling Optimus down atop of him once more. He reaches for the sheet and pulls it back over them both. 

“I can go neutral. Maybe escape to a colony,” He argues, but it’s weak and tired as the day catches up to him. Megatron kicks his engine up a notch to soothe Optimus again. 

“Somehow I doubt that you’d abandon your mechs on Cybertron so easily. Recharge now, we can plan a funeral tomorrow morning,” Megatron suggests. He wraps an arm around Optimus and shutters his optics. 

“I want him buried, not smelted,” Optimus shifts into a more comfortable position, intertwining their legs. 

“Scheming again, aren’t we?”

“Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been commenting. They've been the highlight of my month recently. We could all use a little escapism right now I think. 
> 
> Thank you again. 
> 
> Next Time;  
> Megatron and Optimus work out thier next steps
> 
> Jazz and Prowl start laying their own foundations


	5. All On My Lonesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is lonely and sad I think quarantine is getting to me but I tried to add in some fluff

Optimus was gentle with Ratchet despite the fact he was already offline. Laying him down in the stasis pod was easy, but finding a place he wouldn't be disturbed was an entirely different story. They decided to bury him with the Orion at the bottom of Lake Erie. It felt fitting to put both veterans together to rest. 

Their duty was done. It was time for them to sleep. 

Megatron, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Cyclonus and surprisingly Deadlock escorted him through Detroit as he brought himself to bury Ratchet at sea. Or, he supposed the lake. 

Here, the worst thing he would be bothered by was algae and possibly the odd pike. But to be safe, they made a note to 'human proof' the Orion in case the humans got too curious. 

They were curious. Not only about the light show in their atmosphere but also Ratchet. He made a public statement that morning, attempting to quell some of their questions as well as warn them of their grieving. Professor Sumdac proved helpful in using his machines to create a sectioned off route so they could transport Ratchet in peace, though that didn't stop the media. 

Worse, the human populace was concerned about whom exactly they had been fighting. 

Optimus brushed that off for now. He needed to deal with Ratchet's funeral first. 

They waded down into the lake as Cyclonus carried Ratchet the rest of the way. The silence felt like it made the water denser as it bared down on him. But the walk was too short and soon enough Optimus came back to himself lowering Ratchet down in the stasis pod he had only recently come out of. 

"Is anyone going to say anything?" Bumblebee asked, "I feel like we should be saying something." 

Megatron sighed heavily, "It's not very often we get the chance to bury our dead outside mass Graves. Before that, in the mines we let them lay where they fell. I'm not exactly sure what rites we would even perform."

Cyclonus set a servo on Optimus' back encouragingly, "He saved mechs again and again. He was a Healer but felt like he needed to be on the front lines to save as many mechs as he could. A warrior's death was not what he deserved." 

Bulkhead moved in and offered a servo to lead Optimus away from the stasis pod. He offered a sad smile and a soft voice, "It's going to be okay. He'll be safe here."

He better be, Optimus wanted to add but the words didn't make it to his throat. He slid the pod shut and let Bulkhead lead him back to stand with the others. 

Deadlock, who had been hanging back, finally stepped up and said, "Sentinel Prime is already dead, he just doesn't know it yet. That's all there is to say. No point in reminiscing or any of this goodbye crap. It's time to start acting."

"Shut your face. No one even knows why you're here," Bumblebee shot back. 

Optimus sighed and patted Bumblebee's helm to try and get him to not antagonize the situation further. He was sure he didn't have the energy to break up a fight right now. If Deadlock wanted to see him laid to rest Optimus would let him.

Deadlock for a moment looked about ready to pull a pistol out from his hip and shoot Bumblebee. But then his aggressive stance changed and he turned on his heal, "You're right. If you need me I'll be finding a way to Cybertron to deal with Sentinel Prime."

With that, he stalked out and towards the loading dock where they came in. 

"Alright, let's turn on the defensive systems and get going," Optimus said. He moved towards the door. 

"Don't you want to say something? Goodbye?" Bulkhead asked. 

"I've been staring at Ratchet's grey frame for half a day. What I'd really like is to get back to base and deal with the situation now, if everyone doesn't mind," Optimus said, a little too harshly and ended up flinching at his own words. 

"Okay, whatever you need," Megatron said, following behind him. 

They set the Orion's defensive systems online. Optimus only gives a passing thought to the irony that Omega is still protecting Ratchet even in death. He tries not to think about it as he types in his identification and starts setting the system. Megatron stands behind him, arms crossed and waiting obediently. 

They move to the loading dock and slide back into the water. They make it out and turn back around. As one last measure, Bumblebee sets to welding the door shut behind them. 

Optimus tries to find comfort in the fact Ratchet is safe and tucked away but the notion falls flat. Instead, he moves away without another word, setting his mind back to the war at hand. 

* * *

"Well look who got stuck on desk duty…" Starscream sneered at Optimus as he entered the main cavern. It was impossible to ignore the way Starscream's hips swayed seductively. With a servo on his hip, he approached and sat his aft on the left side of the console, mashing keys in the process. 

With no way to ignore him, Optimus rolled his optics, looked up at the seeker and asked, "What do you want Starscream?" 

Starscream started grooming his claws, picking at them with a disinterest so obviously faked that Optimus wanted to punch him. He sighed, closing the file he was working before Starscream's Aft could do any more damage to it. 

"Just wondering how a mech who just led one of the most successful raids in recent Decepticon history ends up… What was that? Planning trade routes?" 

"I'm  _ trying _ to figure out a supply line. Don't tell me you didn't notice earth is in the middle of absolute nowhere," Optimus shot back. 

"Ooh, ouch harsh," Starscream put a servo on his cockpit and dared to look wounded, "Where is all the hostility coming from? What have I done to deserve such treatment?" 

"One time, you turned me over to Megatron so he could stab me through my spark chamber," Optimus deadpanned. 

Colour drained for Starscream's faceplates, "Ah. Well. Yes. But I didn't actually  _ do  _ that. You can't blame me for something that never happened, " Starscream slipped back into a composed demeanour. 

"What do you need, Starscream?" 

Starscream hopped down off the console with a huff, crossing his arms as he took a few steps away from the console. He looked as if he was about to start pacing as he spoke, "In case you've forgotten, I'm heading the Escape plan. I need to know if your little spies have reported back yet. And if they haven’t, I need to know when they do." 

Optimus turned to face him, leaning back against the console behind him now. He said, "They won't arrive back on Cybertron for a few days yet. They'll need time to settle before they can contact us again as well." 

"Well while they're doing that, I'd like to move forward with the second phase of my brilliant plan," Starscream motioned to the console behind him, "Pull up a star map, sort by territorial lines." 

Optimus turned back around, digits clacking as he brought up a faction map, "And why aren't you going to Megatron with this?" 

"Megatron wants results. He doesn't need to know the little details. Besides, this is my operation and I'll involve whomever I want to," Starscream dismissed his question, though Optimus still had his suspicions regarding his motive. He motioned up to the map, "How long will it take us to cross Autobot territory and back into Decepticon space?"

Optimus shrugged, trying to think back to navigating the Orion, "Shouldn't be too long given we can jump from Kaon to the nexus and onto an outer colony from there--" 

"Without Shockwave able to open the Space bridges for us? Not a chance we'll have access to the space bridges. No. We will have to do this the old fashioned way. How long is it going to take us to shuttle across Autobot territory, with minimal stops?" He says. 

Optimus looks up at him with wide optics before looking back to the star map. Even the shortest route would still take a month to cross with at least one stop to refuel. There's no way they can pull that off with a shuttle full of warframes without the Autobots setting up blockades and bombing them straight out of orbit. He voices as much, but Starscream just laughs. 

"pfft. Please. We've been doing these things for millennia. Besides, my Trine mates will be on board and I don't intend for them to be  _ 'blasted out of orbit' _ as you put it. I'm looking into what contacts we have in the colonies as we speak, but if worse comes to worst we'll have to plan our own agent," Starscream explains. 

"If you're pushing it… Maybe a month if you're running the engine on red and only making one stop midway. On the most direct route that's…" He zoomed in on a quadrant around the right area and pointed out a planet, "somewhere around here. Don't know the colony off the top of my head but this should be it." 

Starscream squinted at the screen and took a moment before nodding. He smirked, patting Optimus’ shoulder approvingly, “Hm. Seems you repair bots are useful for something.”

Optimus was just about ready to grab the Magnus Hammer and shove it up Starscream’s aft. 

"You're still talking about being chased for a month through Autobot space while the Autobots have the chance to warp ahead of you and set up blockades," Optimus argues. 

Starscream rolled his optics, "I'm second in command remember? I know how to plan an operation this delicate. While your spies and I pull this off, you and Megatron are going to cause some noise on the other side of the battlefield. Welcome to the war." 

Starscream motioned around them as if he was explaining something Optimus didn't already know. 

Optimus frowned. And a long war it was turning out to be.

* * *

Prowl found himself in a familiar place with some familiar faces. Kup Major stared him down with a suspicious glare that made Prowl second guess the whole operation. Rumours were already spreading about him and he had barely made it on the planet. 

Last time he was here, he was the mech who turned in a corrupt prime. This time, he was a rookie who took one punch to the helm and missed a whole fight. Though he also suspected Nominus may be tarnishing his reputation on purpose to keep him isolated. 

Beside him, two familiar blue and orange frames stood at attention beside him. Prowl completely forgot about the twins and the last picture he had of them was Safeguard streaking through the sky with Blitzwing following close. Seeing them here, still, racers in one piece were… Unsettling for him. 

And Smokescreen wasn't here either. 

He wanted to question it yet couldn’t. Prowl resolved himself to his mission, trying to cut out his questions and focus on what was happening in front of him and what he could do about it. He kept his faceplates neutral in the face of Kup’s stare. 

“And what formal experience do you have exactly,” Kup glanced down at the datapad in his servo, looking it over before nodding back at Prowl, “There's a note here about previous training.”

"I trained under Master Yoketron for half a millennia," Prowl answered evenly, noting that it must have been Jazz that added the note. 

"Ah. So that's how you avoided the conscription," 

Kup hummed, putting the memo away and looking over the three of them. He waved a servo, signalling an 'at ease' that Prowl recognized from the last time he was here. Their major took a few steps away before giving orders.

"Give Prowl here a run down. I gotta check with the Magnus about something," He ordered. 

Which was exactly how Prowl found himself with a speedster hanging off each of his arms, parading around Metroplex. 

"Here is being cafeteria!" Jetstorm smiled, only releasing his arm for long enough to point at the entrance. 

Prowl pulled back on them both only long enough to spot his usual table. Blurr was rambling about something that had Cliffjumper rolling his optics and Getaway smiling. Somehow, seeing the three of them together made Prowl feel all the more alone. 

With Jazz nowhere to be seen and ratchet still fresh on his processor, It was hard for him to take comfort in the two mechs around him. But perhaps that was the knowledge that both of them would end up as a chimera of metal at the end of all of this. 

They continued on their tour and the Jet-twins pointed out places he already recognized. It was tedious but gave Prowl the chance to make a mental list of the things he needed to cover before they made contact with Shockwave or called home to Optimus. No doubt Starscream would be angry if they reported empty-handed. 

The twins turned down a hall Prowl recognized as the barracks. Though the last place he wanted to be right now was alone in a cramped recharge hab. 

That was until a blur of white passed his vision.

Prowl stopped dead, stopping the twins with him. Jazz turned the corner and headed towards them, expression neutral and frame relaxed. Just as he was about to say something he stopped, intake shutting as their optics met. Prowl couldn't place where the hesitancy came from; either his infatuation with the white mech or the nerves of their mission. 

A wall of blue followed jazz and Prowl's tanks rolled at the sight of Sentinel Prime. The telltale white paint transfers are all Prowl need to snap out of his daze and keep moving. 

He can barely rationalize the fact Jazz is  _ still _ Fragging Sentinel. It takes everything in him to not demand an answer. 

“Hey!” Jazz chirped at him as they got closer to one another, “You’re the earth mech right?”

Prowl fumbled over his first word, making a small  _ bleat, _ but luckily the twins were too excited to handle themselves. They both smiled right back with, “Yes!”

Jetfire completed the statement, “We being showing him around!”

Prowl saluted to both Jazz and Sentinel, “Jazz minor and Sentinel Prime, it’s nice to see you both again.”

Sentinel smiled at him, though Prowl could only see it as a predatory snarl. He wrapped an arm around Jazz’s hip as if marking his territory. Something about the casual nature of it made Prowl’s lines boil. 

He was the one who just lost a team member. 

He was the one that saved Jazz’ aft, more than once. 

Sentinel Prime had no right touching a mech he used,  _ abused, threatened-- _

His comm popped, signalling an incoming transmission on his personal line,:: Hey, Prowl,:: Jazz’s identifier pinged him,:: You need to answer,::

Prowl cleared his vocalizer, “Sorry. Pardon, what was that?”

Sentinel rolled his optics as he said, “Primus, all cadets are the same. Open your audials. I asked how you were adjusting. I was trying to be  _ nice. _ ”

In a motion that was too playful for Prowl’s taste, Jazz nudged his superior in the side, scoffing with a smile.  _ Play nice, dear. _

“Fine,” Prowl grit his dentae.

It hurt to see. With the twins hanging off his arms he couldn’t move to try and get away from the situation. And though Prowl believed that's what he wanted in that situation, he knew it to be a lie. 

His chest felt cold as he pictured Ratchet. Desperately he needed someone to be there right now. But was it within his right to get angry at Jazz for not wanting to raise suspicions and stay close to Sentinel? Was he entitled to ruin a mission because he was lonely?

No. No. 

:: You sure there Prowler?:: Jazz asks privately then publicly, “You don’t sound like it.”

“Sorry,” Prowl offered a smile, though he couldn’t take his optics off the paint transfers on Jazz’s chest, “I guess I'm just adjusting to the pressure here. I’m not exactly feeling like myself.”

:: At the end of the week, we’re meeting at Swerves,:: Jazz sends him.

“It’s good to see you got the optic fixed,” He says aloud as well.

Prowl passes back an affirmative ping. 

“Well,” Prowl smiles, “The jet twins here were just about to show me my bunk, I’m going to go lie down. This helm ache isn’t getting any better.”

Sentinel scoffs about cadets once again. He rolled his optics and waved them off in a dismissal like it was some sort of formal meeting. Prowl takes the chance to pull the twins along with him and turn a corner before anything else can be said. 

Though he hears a,” See you around Prowl!” from Jazz as he escapes. 

* * *

Bumblebee stared down the Tyrant Usurper with a determination he was starting to get more comfortable with. The little ship brings up a lot of memories, most of which are pleasant. He thinks of the first time he and Blitzwing interfaced, of Starscream finally warming up to them, of Nova and Magazarak. But there's one memory in particular that brings Bumblebee here today. 

“Open her up big bot!” Bee chirps, tapping the pipe he has on servo against his leg like a baseball bat. 

Lugnut rolls all five of his optics but does so. The loading ram peels open slowly, and Bumblebee relishes in the familiar smell of stagnant air and old metal. Bee makes for the ramp quickly, waving to Lugnut. 

“Just get the work done quickly, repair bot!” Lugnut hisses.

“Will do!” Bumblebee says. 

“What the frag are you doing letting  _ him _ onto my ship?” Blitzwing asks. 

The sound of his conjunx has Bumblebee stopping dead in his tracks. He turned to see Blitzing approaching; red-faced and angry. Bee’s spark skipped a spin as he waved him over, not caring for his mood.

Lugnuts vents gave a heavy huff, “He says there’s something wrong with our ship. He’s a repair bot, I don’t see the harm in letting him look.”

Blitzwing sneered, “well I do. I don’t exactly want my  _ stalker _ rooting around in my things. And that's without even questioning what kind of repairs need a pipe as a tool.”

Bumblebee shrugged, still smiling wide, “I can show you if you’d like.”

Blitzwing looked skeptical, but as his face switched to blue he nodded silently, ascending the ramp right behind Bumblebee. 

“We went on a mission together once; You, me and Starscream.” Bumblebee explains, “We made it about halfway before a secondary piston gave out.”

Blitzwing’s upper lip turned up into a grimace as they turned directly into the maintenance room. Bumblebee didn’t comment on it, but his spark sank slightly. He tried to not let it bother him.

Bee sat himself down, legs dangling in the maintenance shaft. He took a vent, preparing for exactly what he had to do. 

“It must have been… interesting,” Blitzwing said almost as if in pain. 

“It was fun, at times. A little scary at others,” Bumblebee admitted, though he omitted the, _ we had each other, and that's what really mattered  _ at the end.

He dropped down to try and beat the hesitation before it caught up to him. He hit the base of the ship with a soft  _ thunk  _ of metal on metal. With the ship stationary, there was no whir of engines or hum of electricity, making bumblebee shiver. Though, without the white noise, it was a lot easier to hear the soft crunching of something that didn’t belong here. 

Bee raised the pipe. 

“Be ready to run!” He called up to Blitzwing. 

_ Click. Whir.  _ “What kind of maintenance requires you to run?” Blitzwing laughed down at him. 

Bee smiled to himself, passing the corner and immediately seeing a familiar row of sharp teeth. He raised the pipe, as silently as he could. Just as the scraplet turned its body towards him, he slammed the Pipe down on it. 

**CRACK**

“Run!” Bee screamed, darting back towards the maintenance entrance. Swinging around a truss, He dove up the entrance, meeting Blitzwing’s faceplates and bashing their helms together. 

“Fragger!” Blitzwing spat at him, face changing to red. 

“I told you to run!” Bee yelled up at him, picking himself off the floor and immediately raising the pipe once more. 

“I don’t see why--”

The scraplet, with half its legs mangled by the first hit, shot up the maintenance hole. 

Blitzwing shrieked, diving backwards and engaging his cannons. He forced himself back, clambering on the floor as he tried to aim. 

Bee waited, reeled back and then…

**Swack!**

The scraplet went flying into the wall, bee let out an excited, "Home run!" 

The scraplet hit the ground and twitched. Just for good measure, Bumblebee hit it once more. When it looked sufficiently pancake-like, Bee turned back towards Blitzwing and the door. 

His conjunx was on the ground still, cannons lowered towards both him and the scraplet. His faceplates were still red and angry, but he was focused-- watching in case the pest decided it wasn’t dead and wanted to eat them all. When it stayed dead, he swallowed hard and looked up to meet Bee’s optics.

“Maintenance over and done with,” Bee smiled, “You’re welcome.”

“You Idiot!” Blitzwing shouted at him, “How many more are there?!”

Bee smiled, “Just the one. Don’t know where you guys picked it up from but it was gonna cause us trouble in the long run. Next time do some proper maintenance to make sure things like this don’t happen.”

Blitzwing gathered himself enough to stand, but his canons stayed lowered, keeping them pinned on Bumblebee.

“Um...big guy? You can put the guns away now,” Bee said, suddenly feeling a lot smaller.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing here Auto-scum but it ends now, or I will snuff my own spark just to drag you with me to the Allspark,” Blitzwing hissed.

“Firstly, not an Autobot. Secondly, not gonna happen,”

“Oh, I promise you  _ insect-- _ ”

“No,” Bee felt his lines starting to boil, “I mean you’ve already snuffed out once and I lived. Snuffing yourself ain’t doing slag. Don’t joke about that.”

He had tried to do something nice for Blitzwing. Tried being the main concept there. How else to impress and try to relate to his conjunx than being useful-- strong. Strength was the only thing the Decepticons understood. 

He hadn’t even meant for Blitzwing to be here. 

“Then I’ll snuff your spark myself next time!” Blitzwing hissed. 

“I did something helpful, I don’t get what your problem is!”

Blitzwing’s canon’s charged up. Bumblebee could see the heat making them glow. But he held firm, staring Blitzing in the faceplates and waiting for him to answer him.

“My problem is I woke up one day, bonded to a fragging Autobot!” Blitzwing’s voice all but shook the ship around them, “And now I’ve got a weak little pest following me around and trying to weasel his way into my fragging life! I didn’t choose you, and now I’ll never have the chance to Conjunx ever again! Because of you!”

Bee swallowed the comeback pricking at the back of his vocalizer. 

Bee suddenly felt like he was back in the arena, sitting back in Blitzwing’s lap. What had he said back then? Back in the pit of Kaon. Blitzwing had once been a gladiator then. He’d been scared Optimus was going to force him back into fighting mindlessly for his own benefit. 

Now he was scared Bee was going to use their bond to do the same, or  _ worse.  _

Bumblebee dropped the pipe he came in with. Defeated, he asked, “Do you really feel that way? That I’m… ruining you? Using you?”

Blitzwing scoffed, “Why else would I bond to something so weak and useless? Somehow you forced me, or some slag. Megatron says he didn’t care for the details except for the fact we were never recognized formally.”

_ Useless. Thing. Weak.  _

_ Bumbler. _

Bee shut the bond, slamming it so hard he saw Blitzwing wince. 

Nevermind Blitzwing was the one to kidnap him for bonding. Nevermind these were fears Blitzwing once confided in him. Nevermind that Blitzwing was the one to sacrifice himself for Bumblebee. None of that mattered because Blitwing wouldn’t believe him even if he explained it to him. 

Why had Blitzwing even wanted to bond with him?

They never spoke about it. He never asked. But when they had bonded it felt right. There was love there, and that's what mattered to both of them. Now it just left him questioning.

“Well, next time you get shot in space or have a scraplet problem, don’t come asking me for help,” Bee tried to shout, but his voice cracked and it came out sounding much more upset. 

Click. Whir. Blitzwing laughed maniacally, “Don’t worry tiny bug! I won’t!”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at his conjunx… no. not his conjunx. He couldn’t stand to look at the mech wearing his conjux’s plating any longer. He made for the door before he could embarrass himself any longer. 

He passed lugnut, who asked timidly if the repairs had been finished. Bee shrugged hum off, giving a half-hearted affirmative. 

First shuttle out of here, he was getting as far away from Blitzwing as he could. 

* * *

Prowl Slunk through the vents like it was second nature now. He knew the way through the science center down into Brainstorm and Perceptors lab as well from the last time he was here. Now, he just had to pray he had the correct shift change. 

Below him, he watches Perceptor pack up for the night. He has exactly thirty clocks before the night role call. He needed to get in, talk to Brainstorm and get out. Quick and simple. 

The door on the other side of the room slid open and suddenly the sound of whistling entered the room. 

"Morning Percy!" Brainstorm chirped, tossing something onto his workstation and sitting down. 

"It's the night cycle," Perceptor deadpanned, "And my name is Perceptor."

"Ah, ever the dry wit. See, Percy is what you'd call a nickname--" 

"As you explain every night. I'm aware of the reason you use the 'nickname' but I was designated Perceptor. That is my name," Perceptor cut him off, tone still dry as a bone. 

Brainstorm started shifting through his tools, and Prowl watched him start to set up for the evening, "And I'll keep explaining it until you get it's a sign of affection." 

"You explain the same thing every night. It's been four hundred thousand years. I'm leaving. Goodnight Brainstorm."

"Goodnight, Percy."

Preceptor was efficient in packing up and exiting the room. Immediately Brainstorm turned on a small radio and got to work. The lab was empty.

Prowl convinced the skrews to come loose. Processor over matter came much more naturally to him now. Though as he continued to work, it was impossible not to make noise. The grate slid open with a soft squeek. 

Prowl didn't think much about it, swinging his legs down and landing in the middle of the lap softly and evenly. 

He was grated with a blaster to the face. 

Prowl raised his servo, staring Brainstorm directly in the optics. 

"I don't know you, who are you?" Brainstorm asked. 

For a scientist, his hands were amazingly steady holding onto the pistol. Prowl stared down its barrel, trying to think up something convincing but resolved to the truth. 

"Shockwave's been compromised. I'm here to help clean up the mess. But I need your help--" 

Brainstorm clocked the blaster, "you have five clicks before I trigger the silent alarm." 

Prowl takes a breath, "I was sent by Megatron and Optimus, I'm sure you've heard the rumours. Especially with happened on earth." 

"Prove it," Brainstorm demands. 

Prowl racks his processor trying to piece together something to tell Brainstorm that only a Decepticon would know. He thinks about Strika, Megatron, and Cyclonus. But nothing is coming up immediately until he thinks about Starscream--

"You're lying to Starscream. His trine is alive here on Cybertron," Prowl tries. 

Brainstorm gives him a suspicious look, but he lowers the blaster slowly. He doesn't say anything, looking Prowl up and down as if that may reveal if he's lying or not. Then, suddenly he seems to find what he's looking for. 

“You’re from earth,” Brainstorm says like it’s an accusation. 

“Yes, I am,” Prowl said. 

Brainstorm relaxed, his shoulders dipping down and his posture went slack. Whatever tension had been holding him taught just released, and he tossed the blaster onto his work station. He smirked, crossing his arms.

“What slag did Megatron say to get you to do this? Threatening you for something? A bribe?”

Prowl took a step forward, shrugging before explaining, “The situation has changed on earth. Retrieving Shockwave has become the main concern, along with the other mechs in Trypticon. Jazz minor and I-”

“Wait, wait,” Brainstorm shook a hand out in front of him dramatically, “Jazz Minor is involved in this? What the slag? Are you sure? We’re talking about Sentinel Prime's lapdog, right? That Jazz Minor?”

Prowl’s chronometer pinged him with a timer warning. He needed to leave soon if he wanted to make it back before Kup came around for role call. He cursed under his breath, trying to parse a way to speed this up. 

“We’re meeting up at a bar at the end of the week,” Prowl stated, ignoring the other questions for now, “And we would appreciate the extra servos.”

“No can do parnteroo,” Brainstorm returned back to his desk, looking over the mess on it, “Megatron's orders; I’m to stay exactly where I am. The last thing we want is for the Autobots to make another technological leap without us.”

Prowl felt his optic twitch, “Brainstorm--”

Brainstorm pulled out his chair, no longer even looking at him. He picked up a tool Prowl didn’t recognize and started fiddling with the pile of parts on his desk. “I don't know how you think this whole war thing works, but we all have a job to do here. Mine is scientific espionage. Yours just happens to be a breakout. Whatever Megatron says goes.”

Prowl liked to remember he once broke this mech out of prison. He assumed if Brainstorm knew that fact he may be a little more willing to help. But the reset just seemed to be ripping more and more away from him. Why not this as well?

“We will be in touch then,” Prowl said as he turned back toward the air duct he had come from, “If you want to contact us, we’ll be meeting at a bar in the outskirts of Metroplex. Swerves. Rodimus’ team seems to know a lot about it.”

"Alright," Brainstorm said from his chair. He focused in on whatever he was working on, brushing Prowl off. 

Prowl felt his optic twitch again. He turned on his heel, jumping back up the air vent. 

This was going to be harder than he first thought. 

* * *

Optimus placed the paint cans down and pulled open a drawer beside his berth back at the factory. He rummaged around in it for a moment, pulling out a small paintbrush. Gently, he ran a digit over the bristle-like an old friend. A new coat of paint would be refreshing, even if it was Earth’s inferior quality paint. 

The ritual felt like a return to form, especially after the week he was having. He tried to not think about the last time Ratchet helped him with his paint, instead of focusing on the motion of it. He opened the can of red, using a stick to mix it well before sitting himself down. 

"well," came a smooth voice, "I come looking for you to come to berth but it seems you've found something else to preoccupy yourself with." 

Megatron ducked through the door frame as he entered the room. He lumbered in, the room feeling much smaller as he took up about half of it. Somehow, that made Optimus smile;  _ they really did make warframes to be as easy to miss as possible hm?  _

"You can go to berth without me you know. You've slept alone for millennia," Optimus said. He picked up the paintbrush he had set aside and started swirling it in the paint. 

"I thought you may have issues sleeping after the funeral," Megatron said as he sat down on the berth beside Optimus, "I came to drag you off to recharge. Bulkhead said I would find you here." 

Optimus gave a non-committal hum. He desperately wanted to stop thinking about Ratchet, to throw himself into something else. Earlier that had been supply lines. He didn't want to think about the funeral, or Ratchet, or Nominus, or Primus… 

He just wanted to paint himself. 

"Would you like help?" Megatron asked. 

Optimus turned, staring up at Megatron with wide optics. Megatron was patient, letting him think over his actions and answers. 

"Um… sure. If you want to. The paint on my scars sometimes peels," Optimus stammered. 

Megatron nodded, taking the paint can and brush from Optimus. He was careful with it, stirring carefully, making sure to not let the brush sink too far into the paint, and swathing the brush to make sure it wasn't too saturated. 

"Come here," Megatron ordered, though it sounded more like an invitation to Optimus. Placing the can down, he patted his lap. 

It felt weird crawling into Megatron's lap without the distinct need to recharge. But he did so, awkwardly clambering into place and raising his arm to expose the place he usually started painting. 

Megatron gripped him by his back. He tilted him slightly, bettering the angle as he brought down the brush. At the first touch, Optimus jumped. He didn't remember the paint being that cold ever before. 

He felt small, in a good way. In Megatron's lap, he could lean back and relax. It was always calming being around such a large mech now. 

So why was his spark spinning so fast in its casing? 

Optimus gazed at Megatron's face. He was focused, optics squinting critically as he made his first few delicate strokes. The scrutiny made Optimus suddenly very self-conscious. 

He had never given much thought to his scars. He had also never given much thought to how others saw his appearance. Megatron's gaze felt critical; as if Optimus' frame was something he needed to appraise. 

They weren't attractive sure, but they didn't disfigure him. And this new frame was a little more armoured than his old one but it wasn't ugly, was it? 

Optimus swallowed, "Is everything… Okay?" 

Megatron smiled; sweet and honeyed. His critical optics softened into something more compassionate. He asked, "They don't hurt do they?" 

"What?" 

"The scars. Do they bother you?" 

"Oh!" Optimus shook his head, "No. They're mostly just annoying. They get sore sometimes when the pressure changes, but that's it." 

Megatron frowned. 

"Really! I'm more worried about how my windshield fogged where the last scar is. It's not exactly going to be good for blending in on the road--" 

Megatron scowled. 

Some bare nervousness rose in Optimus' throat, "I know they're not pretty! But other than the integrity of my spark casing--" 

Megatron's face lit up with concern. His servo stilled the careful brush strokes, and Megatron abandoned the paintbrush back in the can. 

"What do you mean your spark casing?" 

Oh Primus. Decepticons cared about that sort of thing, didn't they? They bond… If his spark casing couldn't support a bond would Megatron be upset? Was that… Was that another weird cultural thing? He had already denounced his leadership position. But could that be grounds for Megatron to call off their alliance? 

He didn't want to sleep alone again. 

Optimus swallowed.

"What do you mean your spark casing?" Megatron asked again. 

"The scars go all the way through. Ratchet said it's thinned the walls on my spark casing… it just makes my chassis a little more sensitive. Nothing else. I promise!" 

_ I'm not broken! Please don't abandon me! I don't want to be alone!  _

The servo dropped from his back and swept up to Megatron's helm. His voice was stern, "I'm calling Hook." 

"No!" Optimus barked, reaching up and grabbing Megatron's arm. 

"You need a medical exam. Who knows how fragile your chassis could be--" 

"Ratchet already did! He said it was fine but I had to be careful!" 

"I need to know what I've done to you!" Megatron barked, his field flaring out, "I could have seriously damaged you!" 

"I'm FINE!" 

"I HURT YOU! LET ME HELP!" Megatron yelled. 

Optimus sat back, optics wide. 

_ Megatron felt guilty.  _

The realization hit him in the back of the helm, where he couldn't see it coming. Megatron felt guilty. The words didn't go together. Megatron was a warlord, he concurred, he murdered, and he used. He didn't feel guilt. He didn't need to. And worse still, Optimus didn't blame him. 

Megatron seemed to have realized he had been yelling. He quite down entirely; his voice, his field, his engines. 

Megatron let out a sigh, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just would feel better if you would see a Medic." 

"I'm okay. Ratchet did some tests after the reset. I don't feel comfortable with someone else poking around my chassis," Optimus swallowed, "I asked you to do it. You know that right? I asked you to do it. You held me, and you have no idea how thankful I am for that."

This time Megatron looked taken aback. His servos hovered around Optimus as if wanting to but being unable to touch him. Optimus laid a servo in Megatron's own. He shifted up on his knees between Megatron's legs to stare him in the optics.

"You haven't seriously damaged me. I've died fifty-four times before, Megatron. But this time I wasn't alone. You were here. And that meant everything to me. It was so much easier. It hurt, but I wasn't scared," Optimus explained. 

Megatron looked away, but his other servo came up and rubbed along Optimus' back. He let out a large huff but it felt to Optimus like acceptance. 

"I would still feel better if I had a report stating you to be in good health," Megatron snarked. 

Optimus smiled, settling back down into Megatron's lap. When he sat like this his helm just perfectly fit under Megatron's. He fit here. Something warm bloomed in his spark from that fact. He didn't have a name for it, but it made him want to stay here forever. 

"And I would feel better with my scars touched up," Optimus shot back playfully. 

"touche little Prime," Megatron relaxed enough to smile at him. 

It felt like they were starting to understand each other. Megatron may have been a warlord, but he was also a mech; one who didn't want to hurt the mechs close to him. 

The realization that Optimus was a close mech to Megatron came with its own new bloom of warmth spread across his chassis and up into his cheeks. Somehow his face tingle and Optimus brought a servo up to touch his cheeks softly. 

Optimus didn't know what this feeling was, but he liked it. He liked it a lot. He leaned into Megatron, not caring if he smeared his paint job. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope everyone id doing okay through all of this. Thank you all for reading. and thank you all for your comments


	6. Interception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A filler chapter tuned plot. Optimus and Megatron struggle with each other again.
> 
> Meanwhile, all Prowls concerns come bubbling to the surface and someone else gets involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been totally up to date with comments. I really love them! please keep commenting.But i think the quarentine is getting to me a bit. Sorry I haven't answered
> 
> unedited, Unbeta'd

It was raining. Optimus had never enjoyed the rain. And though earth's rain was not as acidic as that on Cybertron and most cyber formed planets, that didn't mean the Decepticons knew that. 

Walking into the Decepticon base in the middle of a downpour had earned him more than a few looks, and a quick look over from Hook before he knew to explain. 

"The rain here isn't corrosive," He had said to Hook, shooting him off and tipping some water out of his plating. 

"It isn't?" 

Optimus shrugged, "No. Perfectly safe so long as you dry off afterwards. Just makes you rust faster if you aren't completely dry." 

Had he known that would have set off the entire Decepticon army, then he wouldn't have mentioned it. He had completely forgotten how most of the Decepticons had been military or miners which, he hated to admit, probably were built to handle the sheer amount of mud in the woods around them. 

That didn't mean they had to  _ enjoy _ it. 

Optimus stood in the mouth of the cave, arms crossed as he watched half of Devastator's gestalt pin the other down in the mud. It flew up, covering all five of them in a gritty mess. Optimus found himself wincing. 

"Grounders," Starscream scoffed beside him.

Optimus wanted to correct Starscream--  _ Decepticon Grounders _ but thought better of it. Instead, he let the other seekers continue to bicker about it. Besides, Bulkhead had deemed it fun enough to join them. 

"Primus," Cyclonus ground out, "If they track that into base, I'm recharging in the factory tonight." 

"I would join you if it wasn't… Awkward," Blitzwing deadpanned. 

"Well, maybe our glorious leader will finally get enough organic slag up his aft he'll explode," Starscream sneered. 

Yes, the worst of it had to be Megatron decided it best to join in on the 'Sparring' as he called it. Optimus thought it was more reminiscent of cadets rolling around on their first off-world trip. It was going to be hell trying to get Megatron acceptably clean for recharge that night as well. Just perfect. 

"We should be planning not… not rolling around in the mud," Optimus huffed. 

Starscream shrugged, rolling his servo in the air for a moment, "Well tell that to your Conjunx Endura." 

Optimus' lip curled up into a grimace, "We aren't Conjunx." 

Cyclonus cleared his vocalizer, "Well…" 

"In this timeline," He corrected. 

_ Click-whir,  _ "Haha! Says the mech with a pretty new paint job! Next you're gonna say you two aren't Fragging!" 

They weren't. But Optimus knew a more effective way of getting Blitzwing off his back, "Don't you have your own Conjunx to worry about? The one you  _ died _ for? At least I can say I've tried to kill Megatron." 

_ Click-whir.  _ Steam poured out of Blitzwing’s vents in an angry burst. He didn't say anything more, just turning on his heel and storming off into base, grinding his dentae together. 

"One of these times he's going to knock you out," Starscream said, popping out a hip and picking at his claws. 

Cyclonus nodded once in agreement. 

"Let him. I'm more than prepared to stick another axe in his shoulder," Optimus threatened. Violence seemed to be the only thing Decepticons understood sometimes.

Starscream scoffed, "I could name a few other mechs who need a good axe to the shoulder," Starscream smiled, "Oh look who's on his way over, the top of my list… " 

Megatron came up the path towards the entrance of the base, dripping as he did so. His entire left side was covered in mud and it dripped off him as rain poured down his plating. It was likely someone had pushed him down in the mud and they had grappled there for a while with how caked his joints are. Optimus felt his field before he spoke, an unusual light giddiness filling almost all of it. 

"Optimus! Come join us!" He yelled over the rain as he took the last few steps towards them. He stopped only a few feet aways, servos proudly placed on his hips. A line of silt slid down his helm, following the contour of his face and dripping of his chin. 

Optimus had to stop starring or he was going to get caught. 

"No thanks," He called back, waving a servo, "I'm clean and I'd like to keep it that way." 

Megatron only frowned for a moment before a devious smile. An immediate sense of unease filled the space between the few of them standing in the doorway. 

Sometimes, he wished his battle processor was as advanced as the Decepticons'. He didn't notice the others standing with him had taken a few steps back before it was too late. 

Megatron closed half his vents (the ones facing away from Optimus) and  _ blew _ . 

Mud hit Optimus square in the face, leaving him trying to wipe his optics as he heard Starscream scream and shuffle off. 

Optimus stood, indignantly blinking, half covered in mud, with a very pleased looking Warlord smiling widely at him. 

_ Oh no way.  _

"You fragger!" 

Optimus got his pedes in position and charged. 

There was something to be said about Cybertronians pension for resulting to violence at any offence. But at the moment Optimus didn't care to think about it. Instead, he launched his full weight at Megatron. He reached his servos out, aiming for Megatron's shoulders. 

The slag-maker took the hit, likely strategically. Absorbing the momentum into an awkward roll, he pulled Optimus with him, sending them both entangled rolling down the hill, caking them both in more mud as they tumbled. Powerless to stop their nine-tonne roll, Optimus hung on for dear life, tucking himself in as far as possible to avoid taking the brunt of their combined weight. 

As the incline decreased, they split apart sending Optimus rolling. He landed face up in the mud. He could feel it seep in, soak up into his joints. 

He grinned,  _ damn he was going to kill Megatron for this.  _

But the warlord was already upon his pedes, arms raised up in the air like a gladiator beaconing to the crowd. 

When Optimus' helm stopped spinning, he brought himself to rise. He realized that Megatron had been waving to a crowd. The Decepticons had gathered around them, caked in grit and mud, surrounding them in a mock arena. Rain poured down around them, rinsing them off only enough to make out their colouring and shape.

_ So this is what they had been doing out here.  _

Optimus brought himself up onto unsteady pedes. The ground within the circle was so torn up from grapples and tire treads that Optimus sank a few inches into it as he stood. Over the sound of the rain, the Decepticons bickered and yelled between them, yet their optics were locked on Megatron as they tried to gauge the situation. 

"Come on Prime!" Megatron beckoned, opening his arms invitingly, a wide smile turning wild and excited. 

Optimus thought the mood may have been contagious. He found himself smiling back behind his battle mask. He shook his helm in an attempt to clear the grime out of his face a little more. 

And then the met again. Force on force, charging madly. They wrestled, bearing down on each other. Megatron's weight bearded down on him, Optimus dove, sliding between Megatron's legs. 

In a smooth motion he swung around, pulling his axe from his subspace. He turned quickly, only to catch Megatron reach for and unsheath both of his swords. 

"Not bothered by the mud?" Megatron teased, planting himself solidly in a defensive stance. 

Optimus, faster and lighter as he was, approached first, "I have lived on this Planet for three hundred years now, you don't think I'm aware of the weather conditions Megatron. " 

Megatron guarded easily as his axe came down on his shortsword. There was a loud metal clang as they bounced each other. 

In a routine maneuver, Optimus raised his left arm. Planning to soak Megatron in fire retardant, he engaged his weapons system, aimed for Megatron's faceplates and fired as soon as his covers sprang open. 

**CHOOM!**

Blue light lit up booth of their plating for a nanosecond only. Optimus almost missed exactly what that had meant until he was staring face to face with Megatron's scorched faceplates. His left optic had cracked in the blast. Dreading the outcome, Optimus looked up to his arm. 

Where a hose attachment had once been installed, a blaster sat in its place. 

_ Oh Primus. His upgrade… HeHe was armed… In Frame weaponry was a Decepticon thing _ \--

"Hooks medbay! NOW!" Megatron yelled, servo shooting around Optimus' wrist and dragging him back up the hill

* * *

"I want off this planet," 

Bumblebee placed his servos on his hips and glared down Starscream. He stood firm, determined to stand firm in his decision. 

Starscream rolled his optics but did not turn away from his console, "Shouldn't you be playing out in the storm with the rest of the sparklings." 

Bumblebee stamped a pede forward, "Someone said you were looking for someone to go undercover on a colony. And I want off this planet. Boom solved." 

"Ha!" Starscream scoffed. With a few quick clicks he locked out the console and turned away. 

"And why is that so funny?!" Bumblebee asked, running around to stand in front of Starscream. 

Starscream stepped around him, "Because you're small, weak and frankly I don't trust you. You were useful when you were another cannon mounted on Blitzwing’s back and now you're back to being the little scout we sent to pick up oil from the other side of town. Shall I continue?" 

The force of Starscream's words hit Bee like a head-on collision. Something about the idea of everyone finding him useless once more put a flame under his aft. Not the idle one that provoked action, but a burning, searing inferno that made him want to lash out. 

It felt-- if only just, like Blitzwing’s overheating plating. 

"No one's buying it you know," Bumblebee snapped back at him, "This whole, you don't give a slag act." 

Starscream took a quick and loud invent but he stopped moving. 

"Maybe not about me sure," Bumblebee hissed, "Not anymore anyway. Bet Megatron likes to talk a lot of slag about me, bet left out the bit where I saved you from a scraplet, or patched you up after Nova and Megazarak attacked us. Bet he left out the part where you  _ saved me _ from them too. Bet he left out the part where you ripped up any and all land between Vos and Iacon after you had your trine back. You're a bad slagging liar, Starscream." 

Starscream wheeled around, mouth pressed into a thin, hard-line, "I am not a mech you want to make enemies with. Shut your Fragging trap before you really piss me off."

Bumblebee didn't care if it did, so long as it got him off this planet and away from Blitzwing. 

"If you want me to shut up, then put me undercover on the colony!" 

" _ No, _ " 

"Why not?!" Bee yelled, stamping afoot. He begged, waited,  _ challenged Starscream to lash out violently.  _

Starscream let out an annoyed huff. He rubbed a servo down his face and groaned. More exasperated with the situation with anything, he spoke slowly, as if talking to a sparkling. 

"Wars are not fought based off what the bottom of the command structure wants. See, I pick a mech capable and then tell him what to do, and they do it. That's how war works. That's how you win," 

Bumblebee crossed his arms, "But the Decepticons didn't  _ win. _ " 

Starscream's ire came back in a flash, and he looked as if about to blow off half of his panels, "I'm sending Deadlock! And that's final!" 

"Deadlock!? He's huge! And a Fragging creep!" 

"He's Autobot coloured, can shoot the helm off a mech several miles away and I trust him! What can you do?!" 

Bumblebee fell silent. 

"Yeah. Exactly. Come back with a better proposal and  _ maybe _ I'll consider it," Starscream waved him off, turning on his thruster, and headed deeper into the base. 

"Do you know how hard it is to manufacture new optics on this planet?!" 

Hook's yelling made both of their helms snap to the side. In stormed their chief medic, stopping in with an entourage of other, more filthy Decepticons. Following close behind was Megatron, and a very reluctant Optimus. 

"No more excuses! You're getting looked over!" Megatron's voice boomed over the crowd. 

Bee moved from behind Starscream, bounding over to the commotion and up to Bulkhead just as quick. 

"What is happening?!" Bumblebee yelled over the commotion. 

"'parently Optimus' reformat was a little more crazy than we thought," Bulkhead said, "He's got mounted blasters." 

"Seriously?! Never heard of an Autobot with integrated weaponry!" Bee gasped. Speeding up, he left Bulkhead just as they came to the medical bay. 

There was yelling in the doorway. Bumblebee pushed his way to the front of the doorway, elbowing knees and pelvic spans as he did. 

"If you so much as look at my internals, everyone here is going to see exactly how big of a thunderstorm I can make with that hammer! " Optimus yelled. Bee recognized his voice almost immediately.

As he pushed himself to the front of the crowd, Bee found himself standing in the entrance to the medical bay. In the closest bed, Megatron was holding Optimus down by the shoulders. Hook, who had taken a few steps back watched as his patient kicked at him, mud flying everywhere. 

"You're being irrational!" Megatron leaned over and growled onto Optimus' face, "What else has that abomination in your chest reformatted?! For all we know you could be a full war build!" 

Megatron looked somehow worse. A large scorch mark covered the left side of his face. Though mostly cosmetic, his optic was cracked too, though the light behind it was still at full brightness. It hadn't been a fully charged shot, thank goodness.

Optimus' face was flushed an angry red, "This is a war crime! Unwanted medical modification--! " 

Megatron snapped then, gnashing his fangs in Optimus' face, "You're being overdramatic! Hook has done work on you before--" 

"On my arm and leg! Not my spark chamber!"

"Should I assume you're hiding something again?!" 

Optimus went still, frame going slack. His field pulled in, and the projected panic he had been forcing around them evaporated so quickly the room went cold. 

Optimus spoke through gritted dentae, "Excuse me?" 

Something cool ran down Bumblebee's back. 

"Optimus-" 

"First you want to subject me to a forced  _ public  _ medical exam?! Now you want to accuse me of hiding things again?!" Optimus roared just as fiercely back at Megatron. 

"Well it wouldn't be out of character--" 

Optimus rolled, which at first confused Bumblebee more. But as he hooked a pede up and under Megatron's chin, effectively spring loading half of his joints as he curled into a ball, Bumblebee got it. 

Optimus kicked up, smashing his pede into Megatron's jaw. There was a hard  _ crack _ as his dentae mashed together but he immediately stepped back, releasing his hold on the smaller mech. Now free, Optimus bounced off the medical slab, hopping onto both pedes.

"Move!" He yelled at the wall of Decepticons, not only a few feet away now. 

Smart mechs moved aside, not keen on escalating the situation further. The few who didn't were pushed and shoved as Optimus made his exit. 

About to follow him, Bumblebee stole a glance at Megatron. With his mouth open in a vicious snarl, Bee could see a gap in his dentae-- or maybe one of them was missing. 

Bumblebee shot off after Prime, padding along towards the entrance. As they went, they passed an all too smug seeker. 

"What? Is the honeymoon finally over now Prime?" Starscream asked. 

Optimus shot him in the wing. 

* * *

"Heyy-oo!" 

Swerve's voice made Prowl startle as he entered the bar. Almost the entirety of the mechs in the bar turned to look at him. Almost every gave was critical and judging as if Prowl had to prove something to them. 

Someone whistled, and immediately Prowl shifted his gaze to a booth in the back. White plating stood out against the black slab of the booth and Prowl immediately headed to sit with Jazz. He pushed between several tables, but the room seemed to settle with the idea Prowl was here to meet someone-- not arrest them for the engex. 

He saw only one familiar face on the way; Hotshot. Which would have been less notable save for the fact Rodimus was nowhere to be seen. 

He slid into the booth seat across the table from Jazz, who greeted him, "Hey Prowler, find the place okay?" 

"I've been here before if you haven't remembered," Prowl huffed, "But last time we arrested everyone here." 

Jazz only smiled at his annoyance, "Well, it's private, and back here no one is gonna overhear us if we're careful. Thought it might make a good meeting spot." 

"Except it's about to be found out and it's a den for illegal activity,"

"Nah, made a deal with Swerve; he keeps a booth here in the back open for us at the end of the week, and we keep him off the books," Jazz said, raising a cube of Energon to his lips and sipped, "Well. That and he's stocking some sweetened mid-grade for us." 

"Its… acceptable. I suppose,"

As if summoned, the minibot came swinging by. He paused for a minute for a patron to mumble something in his audial, to which he nodded. Then, with only a few more paces he was at their table, dropping a cube in front of Prowl with a nod before passing by quickly on to chat up another table near by. 

"I may have also asked him to not stop to chat when we're meetin. He's a bit… Loud," 

Jazz, as proved by his relationship with Sentinel, must have a gargantuan tolerance to Prowl's. If Jazz thought a mech was loud, Prowl was absolutely sure that he'd find Swerve absolutely overwhelming. 

"I'll take your word for it," Prowl said and took a sip of his drink. It was sweet, but Swerve had put something else in it to cut it back with an acidic aftertaste. He couldn't quite place the taste, but it was enjoyable. 

It was better to think about that, rather than the still visible blue paint transfers on Jazz's frame. 

"Been fitting in well?" Jazz asked. 

"With the twins? As much as I can without submitting myself to sucking their spikes. Smokescreen has gone missing though-- Kup said something about him being off-world," Prowl said as he reached into his subspace, rummaging around for his notes. 

Jazz leaned back in his seat, digits coming up to drum on the table beside his glass, "Right down to business, huh?" 

Prowl tried not to show his annoyance as he dumped two Datapads down on the table. He shoved one towards Jazz and it slid to a stop right in front of him. 

"You've been in a bad mood ever since we got here Prowl, what's wrong?" Jazz asked, ignoring the datapad. 

Prowl turned his own on, flinching through the first few files until he landed on the notes he had been making this week. He took a vent, collected himself before addressing Jazz. 

"I've been  _ moody _ ever since Ratchet's death. I'm working through it, alright? Now can we get down to business?"

Jazz nodded, though it was stiff and jolty. Prowl decided there were more important things to discuss than their feelings. He laid the second tablet in between them, motioning for Jazz to pick it up. Jazz did so, taking a few minutes to skim and scroll through the hasty ideas Prowl had scribbled down. Prowl took the moment, to remind himself to not be snippy with his only ally on a planet ready to throw him in a prison cell again at any moment. 

"You're… Really taking over from Optimus with this huh?" Jazz said. He scrolled a little further, stopping on something he seemed to dislike. 

"You can't use Brainstorm like this." Jazz said. 

Prowl shrugged, "I asked him to join us tonight for some input. He refused. He had his chance to object and he decided to not show up." 

"Have you cleared any of this with Screamer?"

"No, but I think you'll find he's more invested in retrieving his Trine than how many Autobots we frag over," Prowl stated. So what if he had to manipulate a few mechs? It wasn't something they were completely unfamiliar with. 

"This… Plan of yours involves one of us taking the fall," Jazz places the datapad down and glared Prowl down as if it wasn't acceptable. 

Prowl straightened, suddenly acutely aware of the scrutiny in Jazz' glare, "It would be beneficial for one of us to be in Trypticon and the other within the upper circle of high command. It makes logical sense for me to be arrested so that you may get a chance in with Nominus." 

"Yeah. But telling him about us remembering the loops? They'll know everyone in that room remembers-- that Megatron and Optimus are working together again--" 

"You're already Fragging Sentinel," Prowl clarified, "And Optimus has little other choice. Nominus will know soon enough anyway. We both know Ratchet held Optimus together. He's likely to start acting irrationally anyways." 

Jazz's jaw set. 

Prowl took another sip of his Energon. 

"This isn't about me fragging Sentinel. I'm keeping up appearances, which is more I can say about you. You're so stilted when you talk, you sound like a drone," Jazz hissed back. 

Behind his visor Prowl reset his optics once, twice before processing Jazz's outburst. 

Jazz shoved the datapad back to Prowl, watching as it clattered in front of him. It was soon followed by the second one right before Jazz swung his drink back. His field pickled at the edge of Prowl's own, meshing in a mutual agitation. 

Prowl grit his dentae, "Well if you have a better plan, I would love to hear about it." 

"Stay low, keep on gathering information, and report back to Starscream. Easy. Let them deal with the hard bit," Jazz said, all but slamming his cube down on the table. 

"You can't be serious. Do you want to leave all the planning to Starscream? He doesn't care who dies! He'll use us both as pawns and not care if either of us offline," Prowl snapped back. 

He was done trying to save face, done putting up with grieving in silence and trying to make this work. If Jazz wasn't going to play along then he might as well get out of the way. They couldn't keep waiting for the Decepticons to handle things. They had to take charge, had to make things work their way. 

"Yeah? Like you are with Brainstorm and yourself?" Jazz spat. 

"Getting thrown in Trypticon isn't a death sentence--" 

"Not yet it ain't. But it will be. They're torturing Shockwave. Nominus is escalating! He's got a whole bunch of mechs off-world for who knows what! Nominus knows we're coming, and throwing ourselves left and right is only going to give him more of a heads up. We  _ need _ a new plan," Jazz half yelled. His field spiked from prickly to outwardly angry, blanketing the small booth in a hostile aura. 

"Then tell me you're in Sentinel's berth because you want to be," Prowl yelled back. 

"I-- we-- it's to make sure that we're staying consistent with past timelines--" 

"So I'm not allowed to throw myself into the line of fire, but you're allowed to continue to let yourself be abused!" Prowl threw his servos up, "You get to be abused, I'm not allowed to contact anyone without fear of being found out! So we just both have to isolate, and isolate until we get word from Starscream to probably kill ourselves in some stupid plan! Brilliant! Just brilliant! I would have never thought of that myself!" 

Immediately he went for his drink. Bringing it up to his lips and taking a long drink of it. The acidic aftertaste burned this time and it made its way down his throat. Whatever Swerve must have added to it seemed to get stronger the further he made it into his cube. 

Jazz took a sip of his own drink but it was subdued, and just that; a sip. 

"Maybe neither of us is taking this whole situation as well as we thought we were," Jazz mumbled. 

Prowl sighed, "No shit; you're falling back into old habits and I'm so high strung being alone in my own room Is torture." 

There was a heavy pause between them. 

"I miss Ratchet," 

Jazz nodded in agreement, "Yeah. Me too." 

Prowl took a long, hard invent. As he released it, he focused on the realization that Jazz had been just as ill-equipped to deal with this as he had. They were not against each other. They were in the same boat; Jazz was not the enemy, or at least, he better not be. 

"It's not a totally bad plan," Jazz mumbled, "Just don't like the idea of you being vulnerable like that." 

"I don't like that you're Fragging the one mech who's personally attacked us," Prowl sighed, "We're going to have to just trust each other to do our jobs." 

"Figure out a way where I don't have to frag Sentinel and where you don't have to get thrown in a prison camp, then we'll be set," Jazz sighed. 

Prowl knew the only way for that to happen was if Sentinel was dead and for Trypticon to be inaccessible. 

_ Wait.  _

"Oh, I know that face," Jazz said, sounding half excited, half concerned. 

Originally, he was going to frame himself to get him thrown into Trypticon. But if there had to be an official investigation over a  _ murder _ … 

"I need some time to think this over. We should focus on compiling a report for Starscream tonight, then next week I should have something together that may solve both problems,"

"There's my Prowler, "Jazz smiled at him, and Prowl felt warmth spread out from his spark, "And after we're done, I'll walk you back to the barracks. Would that help?"

Prowl nodded, not trusting his vocalizer not to spill a thousand  _ thank yous _ .

* * *

Blurr liked working during the off-cycle. Shockwave's reveal had left the department in shambles, so much so that intelligence had one cycle a day now that it was completely silent. 

Save for Blurr. He had offered of course, Cliffjumper had been hesitant at first. Whether that had been uncertainty in the face of his new promotion or his knowledge of Blurr's intimate relation with Shockwave he would never know. But with such short staff  _ someone _ had to take the night shift in case of an emergency. So Blurr had taken the position. 

It was quiet, which made Blurr extremely productive. And he had always appreciated the chance to be as productive as possible. 

But tonight wasn't so silent. 

When he arrived there had been a light on in Cliffjumper Prime's office, which at first Blurr thought Cliff had just forgotten to turn off. Blurr moved to his own desk, put his things down and--

A shadow moved in front of the window. 

Blurr's lines went cold. Images of Shockwave's large, single optic haunted his processor. But it was impossible for Shockwave to have escaped, right? 

Blurr moved silently but quickly. He approached the door and tried to peen in through the side window. Both mechs inside weren't Decepticon sized, which let Blurr relax. Likely it was just cadets trying to scare each other with stories about Shockwave, and they had come in here to make it more authentic when they thought intelligence would be empty. 

Blurr opened the door, mouth already open to start a lecture when he stopped, staring down not a cadet, but Jazz Minor. 

_ What the hell is high command doing here?!?  _

Jazz didn't seem to think. Instead, he launched forwards, baton already raised. 

And then Blurr's processor offlined.

  
  
  


" --- the frag are we supposed to do?!"

There were pedesteps around him, though blur couldn't pick out where they were. They felt like they were marching around in his helm. 

"It's fine. It's fine. We bump up the timing by a month by commandeering a ship here. We'll just have to tell Starscream--" 

"And you think Starscream isn't going to just overrule us?! And that still gives us a five-month Timeline. People are going to know Agent Fragging Blur has gone missing by tomorrow morning!" 

Blur tried to move his servos to rub at his helm but something stopped them. Still dazed, he wiggled his shoulders and arms. Something was holding his wrists together. 

"Frag Prowl, Frag this is so messed up--"

"We pin it on Brainstorm. Or or… Shockwave? Some sort of timed attack--" 

"Don't you dare suggest what I think you're implying--" Blur recognized that voice. There were only two of them, but he knew this one. His memory bank hurt when he tried to access it. 

"Well, we can't leave him alive! He saw what we were doing! You're the one that attacked him!" 

"I panicked!" Jazz. That was Jazz minor, from Ulta Magnus' team. 

"Okay okay okay fine… Fine. Shut up and let me think. How long can we hide him, do you think?" 

"We have until morning role call. If he doesn't report in he'll be considered MIA." 

The other voice seemed just as nervous now as Jazz's did, "How did Optimus convince him to join us last time?!" 

Blur let out a groan as his processor booted fully and his optics came online. Jazz's white plating came into view first, followed by a similar though much darker frame to his left. Both of them looked down at him, visors bright and postures stiff. 

The pain throbbing from the back of his helm brought back the memory of what exactly had happened. 

_ Seeing jazz and the new cadet huddled around Shockwave's old terminal… Jazz charging at him, baton raised.  _

They both stood there, staring at Blur as if scared what he might do. But bound on the floor, Blur didn't quite understand why he would be considered the threat in the situation. 

The concept of Shockwave's betrayal still fresh in his mind, he jumped to what conclusion made the most sense. But to admit that Jazz minor, on Ultra Magnus' personal team meant that they had a second extremely high positioned Decepticon spy within their ranks. 

_ Blur had let jazz get to Shockwave, let them hard-line if only briefly.  _

Blur screamed. 

Servos were on him in an instant; one pair wrapping around his mouth and the other digging into his communication array. Immediately it was shit off, but that didn't stop Blur from trying to kick and scream his way out of the situation. 

_ If someone could just hear him, a cleaning drone in the hall-- or someone else working late-- _

"Hey, hey Blurr, I need you to calm down for me--" Jazz said, backing off and back into view. The cadet still had his servos around Blur's mouth as he let out another shriek. 

"He's not going to calm down," The cadet hissed, "He has barely an idea who we are and you want him to trust us?!"

Blur screamed again, but the high pitched wail was already starting to grate on his vocal processor. 

Jazz sat back, propping a hip up in the terminal in the middle of the room, "Just let him tire himself out. Then we'll talk." 

"Someone is going to hear him if they haven’t already!"

"Blurr is one of ours, and I'm not about to off him just because he walked in at a bad time," Jazz snapped, trying to hide obvious anxiety behind an angry bravado. No one in the room was buying it. 

"You remember Blurr was one of the mechs that wanted to hand you over to Vortex right?"

"And he was right. For the amount I betrayed you all, I deserved whatever torture is coming my way," 

The cadet snapped back to Jazz, his servos loosening on Blurr's helm, "Primus, is that why you insist on Fragging Sentinel?! Because you feel guilty?!" 

"Shut up!" Jazz sloped around the other side of the terminal, hiding behind its bulk, "You're louder than Blurr!" 

All three of them went silent. 

"Hey, Blurr," Jazz spoke softly now, as their attention focused back on him, "You willing to talk now?" 

Blurr nodded, readying himself to scream once free again. 

Jazz nodded, "Okay, let him go Prowl."

Prowl-- the cadet, hesitated. Blurr could feel it in the way his arms tensed, held still and they pulled away from his torso and not his elbow. Prowl watched him, optic to optic, judging, making sense of blurs motivations. He looked distinctly like a scared animal; ready to lash out at any point given any reason. Something else was going on here. And like a good intelligence agent, Blurr planned on figuring out exactly what that was. 

"Better?" Prowl asked. 

"You're working for Shockwave," Blur accused immediately. He sat up straight, vents heaving, "Frag, we have more Decepticon spies in our command structure. How complacent have we gotten that there are so many of you just waltzing into high command positions?" 

Prowl took a step back, nodding to Jazz. They switched positions; Jazz coming to stand in front of Blurr and Prowl moving back towards the console. Immediately he began typing. 

"What's he doing?" Blur asked, panic rising in his voice, "What is he writing?" 

"Focus on me right now Blur. I ain't gonna say we work for Shockwave because we don't. Our bosses just happen to be working together to get off a certain planet in the middle of nowhere. We're just receiving a distress signal is all."

_ Lies. Lies. Magnus was just on earth. If there was someone in need of rescue they would have picked them up then.  _

"Blur? Blur we need you to promise not to say anything 'but this--"

"He's going to run to Magnus as soon as we let him up," Prowl snapped, digits still ticking away at the keyboard. 

"Primus Prowl do you have to be so finite? We can work this through," Jazz sighed. 

"If we bump out plan up by one month, frame Blur as a Decepticon spy under Shockwave based off their previous relationship and bring ourselves to Nominus' attention immediately then we  _ may--  _ and I do mean an only slightly in our odds  _ may--  _ make it out of this without being thrown in prison ourselves _. _ " 

The threat of having to be put in that pit made Blurs tank roll.  _ They were really going to just remove him from the picture, throw him in with a bunch of Decepticons. They'll rip him apart!  _

"No-no! No. I'll keep quiet, I'll keep quiet. I promise. I'll just go back to work I promise--"

"Of course. Well-- so long as they send him to Trypticon and not the Stockades we would still take him, prisoner, when Starscream arrives on planet," Prowl stated. 

Jazz was quiet. 

"What… What do you mean Starscream is going to be on Cybertron? Jazz. Jazz. You can't really be considering this! Come on! We-we were in the same cadet squad!" 

Prowl finished tapping away with a flared tap of the last key. His visor met Blurr's with a neutral stare. 

"I know a few mechs inside willing to keep him safe. It may do us well to contact Starscream's trine and Minimus ahead of time," Prowl explained. 

"You know he's just going to spit it right back in our face, that we're the spies," Jazz said, just as calmly. 

Prowl shrugged, "You're Fragging Sentinel. Who's he more likely to believe?" 

"Got a favour I may be able to pull with Magnus too," Jazz hummed, "update Starscream with what's going on in the report. So who's going to turn him in?" 

Prowl resumed typing, "You. You're closer to upper command. See if we can't get you promoted and in Nominus' good graces." 

Blur swallowed. Hard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	7. Prison Sentence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blurr's greatest fears come true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. This chapter was actually finished about a week and a half ago, but due to the content I ended up pushing it back. Thank you for waiting.

There was a lot about Shockwave that Blurr noted was entirely different from Longarm. There was the obvious; his frame, the way his one singular piercing red optic seemed to eat away to his plating but there was more than that. It was the way he was completely still where Longarm would fiddle, or how their systems sounded entirely different. If Blurr didn’t know better he would register them as entirely different mechs and not a spy in disguise. 

But he did know better, and for some reason, he couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal that went with it. 

“Why have they arrested you?” Shockwave asked from across the shared interrogation room. Blurr already had an idea of why they’ve temporarily been placed together, but he doesn’t know what his position in this is anymore; he doesn’t know who to tell what. 

“I don’t know,” Blurr said, shuffling in his chair, “Do you know why they’ve put us in here together?”

Blurr reminds himself that here, they’re on equal footing. They are both cuffed behind their back in stasis cuffs and as an extra precaution, Shockwave has a chain running to the ground from his cuffs that forced him to kneel. At least they’ve graced Blurr with a chair, maybe out of respect or maybe its special treatment, He tries not to think about it. He just hopes he’s not expected to pay anyone back for the small mercy. 

“An emotional response from both of us I assume. Last time you came to visit you made quite a spectacle of beating a vulnerable prisoner,” Shockwave says as he cocked his head to the side. He seems just as confused about the situation, and Blurr tries to take comfort in that. 

“Don’t play the victim here,” Blurr can’t help but sneer, even though he knows this is exactly what the guards want from him, “You’re the one one who used us to feed information to the Decepticons correctly.”

“Used the Autobots? Or used you, Agent Blurr?” Shockwave asked. 

Blurr grit his dentae, “You already know the answer to that.”

Shockwave nodded; a slow struggled movement that involved the whole of his neck. His optic scans the room as well, stopping briefly to look at the observation window to the left of them. There are several officers in there, including who Blurr notes to be a blue Prime that seems to be a little under qualified to be here. 

“Agent Blurr--”

“I am not your agent!”

“... Blurr, then. Are you so upset because of our past relationship?”

Yes. of course he was. Blurr wasn’t so naive to assume his motives were completely based off of the fact Shockwave was a Decepticon. It was the betrayal. How many late-night confessions had been passed onto Decepticon intelligence? How much of their personal relationship had been divulged to Megatron himself? How often had Shockwave--  _ Longarm  _ laughed behind his back, calling him a stupid Autobot for thinking he even cared?

But giving Shockwave an emotional advantage over him would just be putting him back into the role of the stupid Autobot playing right into his servo. He would not give him that.

“Is being a Decepticon spy, not enough for me to be angry with you? I have to be angry with you because we fragged sometimes? We were both fragging half the office,” He hissed. 

“And yet you were the only one to come visit me and demand answers,” Shockwave said as if making an observation in some sort of experiment.

Blurr wanted to point out that he had only really come when Jazz had offered to take him. But now he even questioned the motives behind it. He and Prowl had been adamant in the fact that they were not Decepticons, but they were reporting to someone off-world. Who else could that be other than Megatron?

“You hard-lined with Jazz,” Blurr accused, “What did he want from you?”

“Jazz minor did as you requested. He simply online my vocalizer. Do you question his loyalty to the great Autobot machine?”

Blurr cast a glance back to the window of observers and swallowed. 

“Jazz framed me. He’s the one who got me arrested. I believe he’s using my relationship with you to cover for him while he continues your work feeding information to the Decepticons. I have tried to tell the Autobots but for some reason they won’t believe me--”

“And why do you think that is? If I have no involvement with Jazz minor, and he seems to be acting against the Autobots, then what do you suspect he is doing?” Shockwave asked. 

_ He’s still using me for information.  _

Blurr shut his mouth immediately and stared down Shockwave instead. Perhaps maybe spouting the situation to him was a little too much. But at the same time, Blurr suspected that Shockwave had already started to piece together some of the situation. It was eerily the same way Longarm would piece together information; by helping Blurr come to a conclusion himself.

But what Shockwave was proposing was a third faction to their war entirely. 

“Jazz and his accomplices are Decepticon sympathizers. I don’t know what else you could think was going one here. They’re simply using me to cover their tracks,” Blurr stayed firm. Not for Shockwave, but for their observers. Shockwave’s idea proposed distrust among them all. Who else could be working for a third faction? 

Were the neutrals making a move?

Shockwave stretched as best as he could. Blurr watched his neck arc, and his limbs attempt to stretch, stopped only by the stasis cuffs. Every motion, every word felt calculated in an attempt to drive their conversation forward. Blurr wondered if Longarm’s persona had been this calculated constantly. It seems almost impossible, but he would not put it past him as one of the Decepticon elite. Blurr reminded himself Shockwave was the enemy, that they could not work together. 

Blurr tried to hide the way he had to resettle himself, “You’re the one saying that they’re using us for information, but want to keep talking. Why would giving information to the Autobots be beneficial for you?”

Shockwave’s optic bore into him with a hungry intensity, “Having an ally within these walls is more beneficial to my situation than giving away a theory or two. Would you not agree?”

“We are  _ not _ allies. We will never  _ be  _ allies. You are delusional. Whatever torture they are putting you through obviously is scrambling your circuits,” Blurr said, standing. 

Shockwave didn’t have a mouth, But Blurr swore he was smirking. 

“Allies maybe not yet. But cellmates, very likely,”

_ Cellmates. _

“No! No!” Blurr turned towards the observation window, pleading, “You can not put us in a cell together! You can’t! He’ll rip me apart! I’ll rip him apart! You have no clue what you’re doing, what’s going to happen if you put us in together!”

One of the observers; an elite guard interrogator leaned over and pressed the intercom button, “We will be separating you two once we have gathered the information needed.”

Blurr moved over to the window, dragging his pedes as the stasis cuffs made his movements groggy. The mechs in the observation rooms tensed, and until then Blurr didn’t see himself as a prisoner. 

_ I’m a criminal.  _

He stopped, “What information do you want!? I’ll tell you anything! Shockwave’s old console--”

“Was scanned and is clean. No messages have gone in or out on it since Shockwave was arrested.”

“It is not you that they want information from,” Shockwave said behind him. 

Blurr turned back to Shockwave to watch him shift in his chains. For a moment he thought they may not hold as they strained against the metal floor with enough force to audibly struggle. Blurr backed up, back pressing against the observation window. 

“I told you at the beginning of this meeting that they intended to elicit an emotional response from us to gather information,” Shockwave groaned, “More specifically they expect me to confide in you. They have yet to see their error.”

\---

Starscream stood up, waving a datapad in the air, “I would like to start this meeting off with some good news for once.”

Optimus shifted in his seat, uncomfortably not trying to show his excitement to Megatron sat beside him. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Starscream’s announcement was about.

“Proceed then,” Megatron sneered. 

Starscream pushed his chair back, and the entire table prepared themselves for the dramatic display. He started his pace around their makeshift table, passing behind Megatron first, then Strika and so on. 

"We've finally received word from Optimus' team on Cybertron. They've been compromised--" 

Optimus' spark sank. 

"But have decided to side with Nominus may give them the time they need to deal with Trypticon. We have six months until they execute their plan to get the imprisoned mechs off-world. With both the Allspark and Magnus Hammer in our possession, and the Decepticon army doubled it will be the perfect time to launch a full invasion." 

Optimus would argue that there was no perfect time for an invasion, that there would still be countless civilian casualties but remembered he was past that. No longer leading invasions and scheming, Optimus was here for busy work and that was all; planning trade routes, piloting, and construction. And though he knew that was his place, he didn't catch himself fast enough and he opened his mouth and shut it immediately. 

Megatron gave him a side glance, to which he paid no mind. 

"In the meantime," Starscream continued, "We need to start setting up an escape route through Autobot territory. We can start clearing part of their forces by driving them into different quadrants. If we launch select battles along the borders we may be able to give Prowl and Jazz a week's head start before they're pursued or hit a blockade. Deadlock will be going undercover on CL12 where they will refuel halfway through the trip where he will join them for the rest of the trip." 

That… was actually quite sound. It would work so long as Jazz and Prowl kept up their side of the bargain and Nominus didn't catch wind of what happened next. It was pushing the limits of what they could pull off, but it may be manageable if they could work as a cohesive group. 

Optics around the table turned towards him, and Optimus didn't notice until Megatron almost fully turned to look at him straight on. He shuttered his optics a few times dumbly, trying to figure out what was wrong. Even Starscream had stopped his pacing for the moment. 

"What?" he asked. 

Megatron cleared his vocalizer, "This is generally the point where you add some plan you've been making the entire time… so?"

_ Well, he hadn't been. _ For the record. 

"Um… Not this time," He said as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. 

Starscream leaned in between Cyclonus and Blitzwing bin the opposite side of the table and tilted his helm, "No veiled threats? No weird allusion to some secret plan in the background?" 

Optimus shook his helm, thought for a moment and then spoke, "I may have ordered some proper Cybertronian polish secretly on our first delivery."

"You ordered polish." 

Optimus shrugged, "I've been going without for a few hundred years. I didn't think anyone would notice."

Starscream stood back up, optics squinting at him like Optimus may murder everyone in the room at any moment. He began his pacing all over again, taking a few steps before continuing on with technicalities that Optimus didn't care to continue to listen to. 

He continued to catch Megatron's occasional glance throughout the meeting. Unconsciously, he touched his own face in case the dark circles under his optics were that noticeable. He itches his scars, nervous they were already starting to show through the paint. He suspected there may also have been a storm on the way as well. Maybe the Decepticons would go back out to play in the mud and he could slip back out and work in peace. 

The shipment report was next, now with the added refinement of Optimus' polish included. And then discussion of the quadrant assignments. And then closing comments. The entire meeting seemed to drag on now that he didn't have an active role in it. Optimus resigned himself to getting used to it. 

As the meeting adjourned, Optimus stood to leave. But no matter how quickly he dipped into one of the back tunnels, he couldn't avoid everyone forever. 

But he could try. 

He twisted into one of the back access tunnels, speed walking towards the back exit. But large, heavy pede steps were already following him. He sighed and slowed as soon as they lost their echo and crept upon him. 

He turned, already tilting his helm up to stare directly into Megatron's optics defiantly. Megatron looked just as stone-faced as he had in the meeting. something about the flat expression made Optimus' fuel pressure skyrocket. 

"What," he asked, feeling a little like a Parrot. 

Megatron seemed to catch himself, and briefly, Optimus suspected that he had followed him on impulse alone. But he caught his composure soon enough, and his lip curled up in distaste. 

"You looked tired," he remarked, "And you have not come to my berth in a week. You're being foolish." 

_ Great starter.  _

"I'm allowed to recharge where I want Megatron. If you want me to come to your berth then I guess you're just going to have to pick me up and hold me down again," Optimus turned on his heal and started stalking towards the exit mid-way through his comment, "Just know next time I'll do worse than crack a tooth."

Megatron followed him, and they both ascended through the tunnel together. Optimus rolled his optics, realizing it was going to be a lot harder to get rid of Megatron than he thought. 

"And what do you expect to do when I leave for the border? Just pass out every few days like you used to? Overclock yourself again? What will you do without a Medic then?" Megatron asked. 

Optimus whipped around, optics blazing and spark humming in his chest at the mention of Ratchet, even if it was tangentially. He wanted to explode, throw every issue back in Megatron's face and get out of there. 

But he knew better than that now. 

Behind the goading and anger, there was concern. Optimus had known it back when Megatron had forced him to go to hook in the first place. And now, cooled off for the initial situation, he could see it clearly. Megatron was  _ concerned, genuinely _ that he was tired-- that he would injure himself again if he was not forced to cooperate. He swallowed his pride for the moment and forced himself to try and tackle the issue calmly. 

"I am not willing to change Medics yet. I am not comfortable having a new mech poke around the one place I am particularly vulnerable. Ratchet gave me the all-clear, and I would hope that you could respect that, and not resort to accusations to get your way," He said. 

Megatron looked taken aback for a moment, fully expecting there to have been a full fight. He composed himself quickly though, but his tone lost its edge to it. "And if you're injured? What then?"

"I doubt that will be an issue here on earth. There isn't much here trying to kill me except maybe Blackarachnia," 

"Come with me,"

_ What.  _

Megatron continued, not missing a beat, "You know I am horrible with expression. Come with me to the border."

“And do what exactly?” Optimus crossed his arms, half defensively and half aggressively.

Megatron glanced over his shoulder like one of the other Decepticons may be listening or following them. Optimus had to remind himself that Starscream was alive and well, and Megatron’s concern was warranted. Given the current situation and Strika’s known distrust, Optimus didn’t blame him. 

“I would feel better if you came along where I know where you are. Even if you come along for Navigation and nothing else,” 

“You mean you want to make sure i’m not up to anything, right?” Optimus snapped back. Of course, it was too much to ask for Megatron to just trust him for once. He rolled his optics, expecting some sort of defensive rebuttal he had come to expect from their drawn-out arguments. 

“I want to make sure you’re safe if you insist on not looking after yourself.” He said instead.

“Oh,”

“You’re the target of a mech with a lot of resources that he can and will use to hunt you down,” The warlord explained, “If you think I wouldn’t want to guard you in some way, then you’ve sorely mistaken my intentions.”

Optimus nodded. It would be more convenient to join him on the front line if it meant sparing troops in the long run. He would have to do some shuffling around but they’d be able to work it out easily, “Bumblebee and Bulkhead would have to come with me.”

A visible weight lifted off the warlord’s shoulders, and he stood a little taller, “Of course. Not an issue at all.”

“Then I suppose I can consider it,” Optimus relaxed, turning back towards the exit. 

“Will you come to berth tonight?” 

“I’ll think about it.”

____

"You know, there's a little blue racer making some very bold claims about you Prowl of Praxus," Nominus said. Something ominous about his voice put Prowl on edge even past the allegations raised against him. There was something about his choice of words and tone that radiated a billion-year confidence and allure he had never seen in a mech, nor remembered Nominus emanating before. There was a physical force to it that sat Prowl down in his seat and glued him there. 

"I thought you may have wanted to talk to Jazz first," Prowl said, but he could hear the waver in his own voice and he cringed at the sound of it. 

"Ultra Magnus is interviewing Jazz Minor at the moment. His loyalty has always been questionable, but obtainable under the right circumstances. I thought perhaps stepping in at this point was necessary," Nominus folded his servos on the desk between them as he addressed Prowl as if this was a formal interview of sorts. 

"Tell me about Optimus Prime," He went ahead. 

"I don't think--" 

"What is it about him that fooled Megatron to work with him? Or more importantly, why is it you're so intent on working for him?" 

Prowl swallowed. 

"it's okay. We have time," 

Time Prowl didn't have. They had six months, and a fragile plan that he didn't even know if he could pull off at this point. He didn't have time to sit here and play mind games with the enemy, especially now he felt like he was losing only four sentences in. 

"Did he threaten you? Play to some deep dark secret?" Nominus clocked his helm to the side almost jovially, "Or maybe he was just the best option at the time?" 

"You're making wild assumptions," Prowl stated, keeping to the facts of the situation. 

"Not assumptions. Informed inferences. Mechs joined the Decepticons because Megatron Promised them freedom. Mechs stayed with the Autobots because we promised them order, safety, and purpose. Mechs don't join a side in a war for no reason. I'm just trying to figure out your reason," 

"Why?"

"Because whatever Optimus, the space Bridge technician, is promising you, I promise I can do better," Nominus said. He stood and moved around the desk with slow steps. 

Every moment of his was measured, every step exactly the same pace length as the last. It was conditioned, like it had been programmed into him. Even the way his component stretched and compressed in his walk was within integers of the last pace. It was unsettling to the point it drew Prowl's focus. He was more robotic than any other mechanism he had seen. He didn't move like a mechanism-- with tics or skips that came with their age, but nor was he organic with the smooth movements of musculature over bone-- he was something else. 

"He's not promising me anything," Prowl tried. 

"There is something he--" 

Prowl snapped, "He was just right. I was wrong and he was right." 

Back when this had all started Prowl had made assumptions just like Nominus had. He had assumed Optimus was a Decepticon sympathizer. He hadn't realized just how wrong he had been until things had progressed so far he could do little to change its course. Not this time. Prowl had a  _ plan.  _ And he was intent to keep to that plan on track if not to save himself, then to save the others. 

Nominus stopped in front of him and leaned back against his desk. 

"Well, that's a stupid reason to follow someone. Especially someone who's decided to engage in Decepticon tactics," Nominus lowered his helm to level their Optics, "It's a marvel that so many mechs remembered what happened. How do you know he's not manipulating you now? With all that information he has?" 

Prowl's helm hurt. But there was a part of him that knew he had to keep his resolve here. One wrong move and Nominus would be down his throat puppeteering him to lure Optimus in. 

"He's the only mech interested in keeping us alive. At the base of our programming survival comes first. It is only logical to stay with the mech most interested in my interests,"

Nominus smiled, and Prowl suddenly realized he had given too much away. 

"And the Autobots don't care about our collective survival? Prowl-" Nominus started, placing his servo on Prowl's knee. 

_ Darkness. Disorientation. And then-- _

_ Nominus clawed at himself. With his chest half-open, Prowl could see the way the light from his spark flickered out into the air as it spun. Every time he managed to shuffle back, Optimus took another step towards him. It was obvious he was dying even from several feet away. His optics were panicked and wild as he looked around desperately, looking for any sense of salvation.  _

_ There was none.  _

_ Prowl didn't recognize the ship they were on but somehow he knew that it was the new Autobot flagship. It had been ordered by Nominus Prime himself at some point in the war. Despite that, it was in ruin from the battle that had led up to this exact moment. The main console behind them was on fire, and there was a crack in the main observation deck that was leaking precious ozone.  _

_ "I'm immortal!" Nominus screamed at them, though the fear in his tone made Prowl doubt the fact.  _

_ The glitching he was used to experiencing during these visions revealed Megatron standing on the opposite side of Optimus.  _

_ "We all are," the warlord hissed at him, "and We all know if there's no frame to revive, then there's no way back."  _

_ Prowl felt something catch in his throat, "Just like you did too #&$28~" the name glitches on his tongue, and he couldn't remember what name was supposed to be there. Ratchet? No. That felt wrong. Bumblebee? No. Odd.  _

_ Immortality?  _

_ "The question is Nominus, where have you hidden your fragment?" Optimus asked, axe at the ready at his side.  _

_ Nominus spat Energon and shuffled backwards a little more, "Show me yours and I'll show you mine."  _

_ Megatron butt in, "Optimus don’t--"  _

_ But Optimus had already lifted his servo up to his face. From this angle Prowl could only see half of what was going on but it was obvious he was manually removing his battle mask. As he did, an ominous pale blue light emanated from behind it, basking Nominus on a brighter light that even his spark. Megatron reached forwards, grabbing Optimus servo as his mask pulled fully away.  _

_ "Prime--" _

_ Optimus turned to Prowl as soon as he called.  _

_ Prowl's vision focused in, everything else glitching into a green Wireframe and then slowly fading completely. He focused in on his leader-- his friend. Though Optimus looked little like he used to.  _

_ Under the mask was an entirely new horrific scar that opened up the side of his mouth exposing his dentae to the open air. It made the lower right side of his face look almost skeletal as most of the protoform had been ripped away. But, in place of one of his dentae was something bright white that illuminated the rest of his face. Prowl could feel the heat from it even meters away from Optimus. Something about it felt familiar, like it called to him.  _

_ 'That's me.' he realized in confused realization. The fragment-- the piece of whatever it was. That was him. In some weird abstract way.  _

_ Optimus spoke to him, though somehow he knew it was for Nominus, "Next time you hire a sniper, don't miss."  _

_ Darkness. All over again. It was dark and he was alone and-- _

Nominus shot away from him with such force that he hit the desk behind him. Immediately he went to hold his helm, groaning as if somehow Prowl had hurt him. Things on his desk rolled or fell off of it as it took his full weight. 

Prowl sat back in his chair, much less disoriented from the experience. As usual it left him with questions, but none so burning as 'Had Nominus seen that?'. It seemed impossible, when he had touched Zeta he had been unaffected, so why then would Nominus look so disoriented? He didn't understand--

_ The Matrix.  _

Nominus seemed to regain his bearings, and gripped the edge of the table. His optics were as wide as both of Cybertron's moons as he stared Prowl down in disbelief. It took him a minute more to look around the room and re-familiarize himself with where exactly they were. 

And then, that eldritch-like quality that has lined his movements up until now sparks in his optics. He looks thrilled-- more than thrilled-- elated, like he's figured out some great secret. The smile that blooms on his face is nothing short of that of a predator who's caught its prey. 

"No wonder Optimus was winning," Nominus jeers, "You can tell the future. How? How do you do it?" 

Nominus shoots another servo out, but stops himself short of actually touching Prowl. It’s almost odd how quickly he catches on to exactly what’s going on. 

Prowl could tell him. He could explain its not the future-- but fractures of past timelines their Optimus abandoned. That vision of immortal Prime's and Nominus' death may have been part of an extremely different timeline. But it did happen. And if Nominus wants to conclude it's the future then Prowl will let him. 

"How," Nominus asks. 

Prowl tells him the truth, only because he can't think up a good lie in time, "I don't know. I'm just like this." 

"Primus below," Nominus says, and Prowl starts to think he may start drooling, "We could win the war with this." 

Prowl pushed himself back into the chair he was sat in. He didn’t know or like where this was going, but convincing Nominus of his non-threat was imperative. If only he could find out how to convince him of that. 

The door opening behind him made Prowl turn to look at who was entering. Jazz stood obediently beside Ultra Magnus as they both entered the small office, making it suddenly very crowded. With the rigid way Jazz was standing, Prowl could on guess how successful he had been in his own interrogation. 

"Ah, Magnus. How did you and Jazz fare?" Nominus asked, tone still jovial after his revelation.

"Permissible," his optics darted to Prowl briefly, "He has agreed to give what information he can. It seems proximity may have been a factor in the remembrance factor. Jazz has minimal viable information." 

Nominus nodded, "I'll have Zeta draw up what he remembers from the final fight. But you do know what that means."

Jazz, tone dull and permissive, filled in the rest of his sentence, "Megatron is aware of what is happening as well. It is no wonder that he and Optimus have already made progress." 

_ So many false assumptions.  _ Prowl toyed with the idea of keeping Ultra Magnus and Nominus down this path-- making assumptions based on what little information they had. 

"What of his one?" Ultra Magnus interjected. 

Nominus beamed. He leaned back on his desk and his frame seemed to relax now it had fully recovered. "Prowl is going to help us. We've accidentally come across one of Optimus' secret weapons it seems." 

"I never agreed to--"

"Your cooperation is not needed if all it takes is a touch to see the future," Prowl could almost physically hear his Processor grinding through what to do in this situation, "Have him arrested-- The stockades this time. We don't want a repeat of Trypticon again, especially will Blurr there now." 

Jazz's servos were on his shoulders before anyone else could touch him. He took some comfort in it, trying to steal his expressions. Jazz was still with him, they still had a chance… hopefully.

"Restrain him, completely. Cyber-ninjas can be slippery and I don't want to have to expend resources on a manhunt," Nominus brushed off. 

"Of course, My Prime," Magnus bowed his helm slightly, and in a motion had Prowl in stasis cuffs.

Nominus' Hips swung as he turned and walked back behind his desk. He caught Prowl's optics again as he sat back in his desk chair. 

"Optimus is mobilizing," the restrained mech tried, and failed to sound intimidating. 

Nominus smiled kindly, "Don't worry about that anymore. We are all cogs in the Autobot machine, and your function doesn't require you to  _ think _ . That pesky process can be removed if you'd like." 

Prowl slumped, and Jazz's servo clamped down on his shoulder.

This was not in the plan. 

_____

"Agent Blur--"

"Don't call me that!" 

"Blurr." 

Curled in on himself on the single berth of their shared cell, Blurr faced the wall and tried, if briefly to pretend he was anywhere but here. He could feel how Shockwave's servo hovered over him as if to pet him. But it never came down on his frame, and Blurr didn't know how to process it. 

He didn't know how to process a lot of what was happening right now. Curling up and trying to will it all away was all he could process at the moment, and Shockwave trying to play nice right now was not helping. 

"What do you want?" He snapped, not moving even enough to look Shockwave in the optic. 

The claws that were hovering over him pulled back and he heard Shockwave shuffle within the confines of their cell for a moment. He spoke up after getting comfortable, "We should plan for our next interrogation. The more convincing we are as a united unit, the less likely their tactics will be successful." 

Anger bubbled at the back of Blurr's intake, but he lacked the energy both mentally and physically to sustain it. He pressed his face harder against the cool wall he was facing. His vocalizer betrayed him, letting Shockwave hear just how exhausted he was of the situation.

"We aren't a team Shockwave. And frankly, I'm offended that you'd even try to play nice after what happened-- what is happening right now. We aren't  _ friends _ we are never working together. I'm an Autobot. If they ask me a question, I'm going to answer it," He said, trying to sound angry. 

"Your faith in the Autobots is illogical. You should be focused on self-preservation and the likely hood they will use torture to achieve their goals,"

"They're my faction Shockwave. I thought you may know  _ something about loyalty _ seeing as you used me like a cheap pleasure drone to get information for your  _ Lord.  _ You can't tell me if Megatron through you in prison that you'd just stop believing in the Decepticons," 

He sounded a little more energetic there, managing a spiteful tone. But the focus that required took his attention off of Shockwave only briefly not preparing him for the claw tip to run down his spinal strut. 

Longarm did so when he couldn't sleep-- hiss speed modifications giving him horrible insomnia most nights. After they interfaced, Blurr would crawl up and sprawl into his lap if he was feeling affectionate. Longarm would slowly trace the components of his back, slowly calming his engine into a low enough gear that he could sleep. 

Now, it just made his spark lurch up into his throat. He shot up, turning immediately to meet Shockwave's optic now level with his own. Shockwave had sat himself down on the floor and his servo was still outstretched where it had touched Blurr. 

He tilted his helm to the side. 

"Don't look at me like that!" the fear had sparked him back into wakefulness and the emotions dulled by exhaustion came back full force, "You know what you're known for! Neurosurgery! Experimentation! Don't Fragging touch me!" 

Shockwave let his servo down and it came to rest on the berth. His field was pulled in tight to the point Blurr couldn't read it and that uncertainty made him panic all over again. 

"I do not want-- do not wish to see you suffer on my behalf. Why do you think I would hurt you now?"

Blur scowled, glaring down at him, "You know exactly why." 

Shockwave didn't answer. 

Blurr didn't move, trying to plan out a way to stay awake and watch his cellmate. He knew it was futile though. Soon enough he would succumb to his basic needs. He still feared Shockwave may take advantage of it. 

As he was trying to plan out a sleep schedule that both accommodated his insomnia and worked around Shockwave, his cellmate spoke up again. 

"I was, what you would consider, an Autobot once," 

Blurr felt his engine stall. 

"Cybertronian history is extremely complicated-- it’s a subject I've found myself enthralled in when I find the time to indulge myself. Returning to Cybertron and reading your accounts of the past have been enlightening," He continued. 

Blurr remembered Longarm liking old historical texts. On more than one occasion they had gone to the hall of records to exchange old files for his Prime to review. More often than not it ended in them Fragging down in one of the lower levels. But he also remembered catching Longarm reading in berth. His mouth would move along with the words he was reading and occasionally he would mumble something Blurr wouldn't catch. 

He missed those moments. 

"The Autobot population is also much younger than the Decepticons'. You were required to use the Allspark to replenish what mechs you lost in the fighting while the Decepticons. As they were much more used to fighting, we survived through hundreds of Autobots before falling. It's given your leaders a chance to rewrite things they find unsavoury, or entirely change the meaning of words. It's a total forced rapid evolution of your culture," 

Blurr raised an optical ridge. 

"I promise. I am getting to the point," Shockwave dipped his helm, "I was at one point one of those mechs-- one of the mechs who would rewrite history, or in more general terms, I was once on the council that ruled Cybertron. A distinctly civilian position that would eventually become the leading body of the Autobots." 

Blurr blinked, "How  _ old  _ are you?!"

Shockwave's antenna shot straight up in amusement but he shook his helm, "A mech never reveals his true age and it is very impolite to ask." 

Blurr glared, "Is it impolite to frag a mech and lie about everything in their life?" 

His antenne slumped back, and Blurr marvelled at how expressive they were, "Touche. May I continue now?" 

Blurr nodded. 

"I was once Senator Shockwave, of the council of Nova Prime. I was a representative from the south, and spoke on behalf of the military." 

Blurr didn't know how much of this he believed, "You're saying a Prime ran all of Cybertron? What about the Magnus? The other Primes?"

Shockwave shook his helm, "Prime does not mean the same thing now as it used to. Now it is a military title, then, it meant an absolute ruler. But the connotation of a word over a 6 million year history has very little to do with our situation no matter how interesting it is. No. What you need to know is I very much held a similar position several million years ago to the one I held as Longarm prime." 

Blurr supposed that made sense. It explained how seamlessly Shockwave had taken over the position of head of intelligence if he had previous experience. But even that didn't explain how a council member became a feared Decepticon scientist and spy. 

"I made a mistake, is how I suppose Nova would explain it. As Megazarak started his campaign for the rights of Military framed and labourers, I too, became more outspoken in front of the council. My people were being slaughtered in their homes for suspected Decepticon activity and I was supposed to be their voice in parliament. I tried all I could-- setting up meetings between labor unions and Nova, tried encouraging protesting. Neither side wanted to budge on the situation. And while the Autobots fought for order and peace-- and I no doubt believe that's what they thought they were doing-- the Decepticons were fighting for the right to live."

"What did you do?" Blurr asked. 

"The right to choose was taken from me quite quickly. Nova believed my duty was to the council and Cybertron first, and the war frames second and he wanted to remind me of that," Shockwave said and clicked his claws against one another nervously, "It seems any reference to enumptra has been lost over the last few million years but I suspect you can deduce what exactly it was by the way I look." 

Mono optics weren't common, even among Decepticons. They severely reduced depth perception and reduced what colours a mech could see. Past that, the weird lanky form of his body made him extremely inefficient. And his  _ claws _ ; they were impractical normally but for a scientist became almost impossible to work with. 

Blurr looked down at Shockwave's digits. The claws were terrifying, and he tried to picture how that would have changed how mechs saw him. Something in that realization made the situation click for him. 

"Forced frame modification--" 

"It was called Enumptra-- The forced removal of a mechs face and servos in order to limit their forms of communication. It left mechs with scrambled emotional processors and major errors that may become irreparable," Shockwave said, helm bobbing in agreement again. 

Briefly, Blurr didn’t believe him. It was impossible to be so casual about something so traumatic and Blurr didn’t believe that he hadn’t modified himself in order to look more intimidating. He was sure that this was just another manipulative tactic by Shockwave to get him to play along. 

Briefly. 

Shockwave looked worn. He lacked a face to truly depict emotion but there were telltale signs of exhaustion and torture littering his frame. Dents that he had made a month ago still littered his frame but there were others as well. There were scratches around his port covers where someone had tried to pry them open. His shoulders were slumped and his neck cranked lowly from where he was kneeling. 

Shockwave looked sincere, and Blurr wanted to believe him if only to have an ally here to lean into. 

But this was Shockwave-- the Shockwave that had played the part of an entirely different mech for so long that Blurr had been tricked into caring for him. 

"You know the cell is probably wired right?" Blurr scowled, "Even if I did believe that obvious sob story, it would only make me look worse."

Shockwave didn't move. His optic dulled though, in what Blurr secretly hoped wasn't despair. Whatever Decepticon emotions Shockwave had infected him with were still infecting his processor. If they kept making him sympathetic to Shockwave, he'd have no choice but to report them to medical and go for a full processor scan. 

"Why are you even trying? What do you want from me?" Blurr asked. 

Shockwave shuffled, laying down on his side as he prepared to recharge on the floor. His engine hummed and Blurr realized that he was stalling while he tried to figure out what to say. 

"What I want Blurr, is for you to make it out of here in one piece. But I will not sacrifice my loyalty to Megatron to do so. Your cooperation would be valuable and I suppose I was hoping explaining what had happened to me would make you more amiable to conversation," Shockwave said as he laid his helm down in a way that allowed him to still see Blurr. 

Blurr scowled down at Shockwave over the edge of the berth. He tried his best to look intimidating, "In your dreams, Decepticreep."

Shockwave tilted his helm playfully, "Blurr, if my dreams became a reality we would be doing much more than cooperating. I always did wonder what you would look like with purple accents." 

Blurs face heated at the insinuation and he whipped around to lay facing the wall again. His plating prickled as Shockwave chuckled lightly. 

"Goodnight, Blurr," Shockwave hummed.

Blurr didn't respond. 

_____

"You ever think like, somethings wrong?" 

Getaway turned to the mech beside him at the lunch table. Cliff jumper had been the one to ask, and though he had a sarcastic reply right on the edge of his tongue he held it back. There were only two of them left in intelligence on the planet and Getaway had no interest in angering his new Prime. 

"Other than all of Intelligence being Decepticon spies," he couldn't help himself. 

Cliffjumper shook his helm and then stopped as if unsure. He took a sip of his fuel as if to comfort himself with it, "No. Yes. I mean I guess that's part of it. Maybe it's just me, but upper command had been acting super weird lately. Nominus Prime just returned to his seat on the council and it's like everyone it tip-toeing around him. I guess." 

Getaway shrugged, "I wouldn't know. You're the head of intelligence."

“I guess. Just feels a little odd, Like something is missing,” Cliffjumper looked at the empty table around them.

Something was missing indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for leaving comments, and I really appreciate people taking their time to do so. Thank you. I love you all so much.


	8. To Give of Oneself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is sad I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm backish? The Fandom has been a weird place for me lately. This chapter has a high warning for Sex and sexual... abuse? Jazz is in a bad place right now.

"He--he's running amuck in the engine room!" 

Megatron turned his attention away from the star map on the main deck to who had just pushed in the door. It was unusual to have someone this upset in the middle of the night shift, but Strika had never done anything in half measures. She stormed into the scarcely inhabited command deck, throwing her arms in the air and shouting accusations. 

Megatron turned off the Holo-map and turned to her, arms crossed. "Who is in the engine room?" 

"Your little Autobot pet! He's brought the other two and they're-- they're doing something to the engines! I knew they couldn't be trusted!" 

Megatron took a vent, rubbed at his nasal ridge and then met his general’s optics. "We have yet to even meet with the rest of the fleet, I doubt stranding us here would be of any interest to any of them--" 

Just as he tried to rationalize whatever Optimus may have been up to, the lights on the deck flickered ominously. 

Strika motioned to the lights frantically, optics flaring a bright crimson. 

"Fine. Come with me," he relented. 

Strika continued to complain as they trudged through the main level of the Nemesis down into the lower maintenance decks. It became warmer the closer they became to the engine room, not helping his already soured mood. They weren't the only mechs down here either. Several mechs had already picked up on what was happening and were loitering in the halls. They likely only hesitated because those who messed with Optimus faced Megatron's wrath. But that didn't stop them from watching and reporting. 

_ "I heard he's immortal and Megatron can't get rid of him--"  _

_ "Must be a good frag--"  _

He ignored the gossip.

Megatron shuffled his way into the engine room, Strika in tow. Cyclonus was there as well daring to be the closest to the action.

The green one-- Bulkhead, stood just within the doorway. He had found a jut out from one of the reactors to set down a set of plans. He was writing something down furiously and didn't notice his arrival. He caught a glimpse of Bumblebee on the ceiling, secured with some sort of harness doing some sort of electrical work-- explaining the brown-outs. Optimus was preached on one of the main fuel tanks, welding something to the main engine. 

"What the Frag are you all doing?!" Megatron bellows, making all three of them stop. 

Bulkhead turns on his heel faster than Megatron expects a mech of his make to be able to do. He stammered, "The engines-- Optimus--" 

On cue, Optimus slides down from his perch, stopping on a ledge before hopping down. He looked to Cyclonus and then to Megatron and Strika. Despite the situation, he didn't look apologetic at all, "Who tattled?"

"You have an entire audience out in the hall, I'm sure I was the last person to find out. Now, do you care to explain why my ship is being dismantled?" Megatron said between gritted dentae. 

Optimus crossed his arms, "You said I couldn't be a Decepticon. So I'm going back to being a repair bot. And your engines needed repairing. If you've got a problem with that, then you can brand me and send me to the front lines." 

Megatron's lips curled into a snarl, "I am not helping you with your saviour complex just because you threatened to dismantle my ship." 

"Not dismantle!" Bulkhead chimed in, sounding offended at the prospect, "Improving. We had to switch to the backup systems while we fixed the main ones, so the brownouts--" 

"Without permission! Or warning! And thee is nothing wrong with my ship!" Megatron snapped, baring his dentae. 

Optimus crossed his arms, clocking a hip to the side and raised an optical ridge, "We have a month. We're just making a few improvements to get us to the border a little faster." 

Megatron, exasperated, grit his dentae and ran a servo down his face. When he had stopped Optimus from throwing himself at the fight helm first, he had expected him to go back to scheming and making plans as he did before. Not tear up his ship trying to  _ help anyways.  _

He leaned in, snarling as he came close enough to Optimus that he could feel his vents. He leaned down, bringing them face to face, "Do you like making a fool of me in front of my troops? Or do you just enjoy being difficult?" 

"I enjoy functionality. And your engines barely function," Optimus motioned behind him, "We aren't even taking up resources. Just reinforcing some things here and there. I don't understand what the issue is." 

Megatron's field flared, "The issue is you have my entire crew thinking you can just push me around on a whim because you spread your legs!" 

Optimus took pause at that. He leaned over, peering at the optics that were looking in through the door. Then he looked back at Megatron. For a moment it looked like he didn't realize exactly what that implied. Megatron's suspicions were confirmed when Optimus asked, "And that's a bad thing?" 

"Yes!" Megatron roared, "Why do you think I took over the Decepticons from Megazarak?! Nova was manipulating him!" 

Optimus didn't seem to understand the weight of that, "Manipulating…? But we aren't Fragging. It's just rumours. And so what if we were? It just means we're getting along is all." 

"They see no other reason as to why I would let you do anything you wanted," Megatron snarled. 

Optimus scowled, no longer clueless and piecing the situation together, "And why is that?" 

"Because you're an Autobot, and a glitched one at that!"

Megatron regretted those words immediately as Optimus' field turned cold and sour. 

"Well, maybe they should know the truth then!" Optimus snarled, playing flaring as if readying himself for a fight. He pressed a servo to Megatron's chest, pushing him. Megatron didn't move. 

"Truth is you can't stop me!" Optimus yelled, voice raising with his stance, "You're too scared I've got something tucked away for later! Or that I'll get the hammer and fry all of your circuitry again!" 

Megatron swallowed, straightening up. He watched Optimus turn and pace away from him. His shoulders were pulled up and tense and he stomped as he walked, fists clenched at his side. 

"If it's too shameful to berth a glitched Autobot then you don't have to! I don't have to 'spread my legs' for you to let me do what I want! Which is  _ improving your ship!  _ For the record!" Optimus snarled. 

Swiftly, he pulled himself back up to the ledge he had hopped off of earlier. The engines had been made for war builds and the few walkways and ladders were too large for him to use effectively, yet somehow he made it look effortless. 

"Optimus Prime, you get down here and stop brushing me off!" Megatron bellowed.  _ Why should he bend to his whim?! He wasn't even a leader anymore! Just a touchy Autobot that would probably sell them all out if it meant ending the war.  _

Optimus ignored him, still climbing up to his perch. 

"Optimus, I swear I will come up there and drag your aft out of here!"

Optimus picked up a wrench and stuck it back into the opening he had made in the engine's outer casing. 

"Primus…" Megatron took an invent, prepared his vocalizer and  _ boomed _ , "Maybe another Sword to the spark will help you remember your place since you've decided to become a coward! What kind of Prime refuses to lead his people!" 

Optimus froze, servo still stuck in some component. His helm turned to Megatron. He expected anger, or indignation or something more than the passive stare. But he knew this look. 

Passive, but calculating. Timid, but dangerous. 

He gave another strong twist of the wrench before pulling it out and setting it down. He looked up, no doubt comming Bumblebee to stop whatever he was doing. 

Megatron watched him swivel and hop back down. He stalked towards him, jabbing a pede forward than following through in a defined strut that sounded a lot more powerful against the metal floor than it should have. His battle mask was already up-- it always was in public, but the activation of his battle-axe explained his intentions well enough. 

Megatron took a step back. 

"What?! Don't chicken out now! You're the one who made the threat! Draw your swords!" Optimus yelled, still approaching. 

Megatron didn't know what earth foul had to do with it. Despite his confusion, his servo shot to the hilt of a sword reflexively as Optimus twirled his axe as he came to stop in front of Megatron. 

"Come on! If you care so much about what your Decepticons think, then draw your sword and skewer me! Primus knows you didn't hesitate before! What changed?!" Optimus' vocalizer started to crack. Megatron watched lubricant well up in his optics. 

_ I shouldn't have gone there. Shouldn't have-- _

"Draw your swords!" Optimus yelled, immediately losing the waver in his voice after noticing it. 

Megatron briefly looked back at Strika, then to Cyclonus, then back to Optimus. 

_ His leadership or Optimus? Betray them like Megazarak? Give up his chance at finally destroying the Matrix?  _

There wasn't really a choice there, he supposed. 

Megatron drew his sword. 

"No! NOPE! NOPE!" Megatron wheeled around just fast enough to see Starscream push aside Strika at the door and flail his way into the engine room. He darted forwards, barely having enough balance to do so and planted himself firmly in front of Megatron. 

Starscream poked him in the chest, "No! No! YOU do not get to frag this up for me! I am this close!" Starscream pinched his digits together in front of Megatron's face, "THIS CLOSE! This close to getting my trine back and we need him," he threw an arm back and motioned wildly at Optimus, "and his spy on Cybertron to do that! So enough! You put down that damned sword or I am going to kill you right here right now! No!" 

Megatron started a snarl and raised a servo to knock his second in command away but Starscream was faster and much more desperate. Immediately, his servo was on Megatron's throat, "I swear to Primus, the thirteen and whatever deity rules this sorry excuse of a universe that I will ruin your life if you take this away from me. Do you understand me?!"

Megatron took enough of a breath to turn his helm and look at Optimus. 

Half hiding behind Megatron, Optimus wiped his optics in a fluid motion and deactivated his axe. Immediately he looked down, avoiding optic contact with anyone else in the room. 

Megatron's spark sank, and slowly he sheathed his swords. 

"Good! Now go back to the bridge and let me get back to recharge!" Starscream twirled around on his heel, now looming over Optimus, "And you put everything back the way you found it! If my console signal cuts out one more time it will be your throat I rip out!" 

Starscream spun again, this time headed for the door as he threw his arms up in frustration, "All of you are Sparklings and the day I rule you all is the day I finally get a good night's rest!" 

Megatron turned his helm back to the smallest of them, but Optimus was already turned away, heading back to undo whatever they had been working on. On instinct he reached out, servo clamping down on Optimus' shoulder to try and finish what they had started. 

But then Optimus turned to face him, his servo wheeled around with him. Out of instinct, Megatron grabbed it, stopping the weak punch before it even hit. Optimus glared at him, optics a deep blue as they contorted deeper and deeper into a scowl. His mask shot back, and he bared his dentae like an animal up at Megatron, revving his engine in warning. 

"Don't touch me! Who gave you the right?!" He snarled, mouth snapping up in Megatron's face as closely as he could get. 

The warlord shot back, standing upright. 

Optimus' battle mask shot back in place, "I swear Megatron. You will never see me again when this is over." 

Megatron, unable to bear the situation, turned away and made his way back toward the exit. He physically shoved Strika aside, but stopped mid-stride. 

"What the frag are you smirking about?!" He roared at Cyclonus. 

Still leaned up against the wall, Cyclonus shrugged, but dropped the smirk. Instead, he sighed, "I told you. You and Optimus never end up 'together.' You’ll just do this until he dies. Stop acting like an idiot and  _ lead _ . It suits you better." 

Megatron snarled, but forced his way out of the room before his pride could be wounded any further. 

* * *

  
  


Prowl learned very quickly what his function within the great Autobot machine actually was. 

He thought when they first brought him into his cell, that it was some sort of joke. He has seen first hand exactly how overcrowded Cybertrons prisons were, and the fact that they’ve reserved somewhere so spacious for him was a first warning. 

The second were the chains; Physical chains. They restrain his wrists to the middle of the room, leaving him sitting in the middle of it all alone. Even if he attempts to stand, they’d force him to bend over at the waist, limiting any way he can fight back.

It’s not Nominus who comes to see him first. Instead, it’s a nameless guard with half of a standard ration. The guard, Prowl identifies him almost immediately as seasoned Elite Guard, drops the half-filled cube to the ground and kicks it within reach of Prowl, spilling half of it in the process. Prowl drinks it anyways, and slides the glass container back to him. He takes it and leaves without another word. He comes in twice a day, always with half a cube he spills. He doesn’t speak, but neither does Prowl. 

His second visitor is himself. 

He spends most of his time meditating just to try and keep his processor functioning through the lack of stimulation. He expects hallucinations at some point, but his friend that’s been at his side before comes to see him only on the third time. Dawned in Yoketron’s armour, He sits across from Prowl, perfectly straight as to join him in meditation. 

“I know who you are,” he whispers one day to the vision, “You’re the reason I can see the other timelines right?”

The vision nods, but doesn’t talk. Instead, it reaches over and moves his arm, correcting his positioning for this mantra as if to tell him to focus there. Past that, The vision refuses to speak or give anymore idea to why he is here. Prowl learns to take his presence as a blessing. It is companionship, even if he would have preferred a conversation partner. 

It corrects his positioning and not much else. But Prowl treats him like a friend.

His third visitor is Nominus. It takes what he assumes up to a week for him to actually show up. At his side is Ultra Magnus and Zeta, though he didn’t expect anything less. They approach, though they stop several feet away. The vision Prowl fades away, making him wonder how real this vision actually is. 

“Good morning,” Nominus smiles.

Prowl nods, though he has no idea if it’s actually morning or not. He hasn’t slept well since arriving and time had little meaning at this point. 

"Good morning," he said back, "It's been a while." 

Nominus scoffed, "Hardly. Though I suppose it would be hard for you to figure that out. Shall we get on with this?" 

"It isn't that simple," Prowl stated as a fact. It wasn't just a touch and go thing. The visions had never been controllable let alone happen on demand. 

Out of the corner of his optic, the vision Prowl reappeared, standing and watching. 

Nominus tilted his helm as if confused, "Yet somehow Optimus had used your ability before to invade the commonwealth. Do not pretend you don't have some sort of control."

Prowl bit his tongue and tried not to lash out. Besides the point he had never told Optimus about the visions, they had never been particularly helpful. It was just him briefly jumping timelines, glimpsing at things that could be, but aren't definite. He had no control, nor any inclination to figure out how to control it for Nominus' benefit. 

But he had to try to control it, for the sake of the mission. 

When Prowl didn't respond, Nominus continued, "Tell me. How does it work? I understand you haven't been getting proper rations." 

Prowl's helm snapped up and he glared at Nominus, "At your order, I assume. I'm not stupid. I won't be toyed with." 

Nominus, somehow expecting this, knelt down bringing them both eye level with one another. He smiled softly;  _ knowingly,  _ "And I have the power to order your rations increased. I'm not asking for a vision. I'm simply asking how it works." 

Prowls nearly empty fuel tanks squeezed painfully. Suddenly, he missed the peace and unawareness of meditation. But, he was hungry. Hungry, but not starving. 

Prowl shook his helm and bit the inside of his cheek, "Why would I willingly give away a tactical advantage?"

Ultra Magnus spoke up next, "Because there are two ways to find out what we want to know. And asking is a lot more pleasant than handing you over to the science sector and hoping for the best." 

Prowl’s mind immediately wandered to what the science sector, more specifically Perceptor, had done to Safeguard. He hadn't been there to get a close up look at the welds that held his components together, but Bumblebee refused to talk about it, and Prowl took that as a sign it was gruesome. 

Gritting his dentae together, Prowl glared behind his visor, "If you want to know the future I can tell you." 

His mind went to that first vision so long ago, thinking of how he and Cyclonus looked out on the carnage caused by Zeta Prime. He thought of Rodimus and Megatron barely keeping their armies together. He swallowed and sat up as best as he could, staring down Nominus. 

"Neither you nor Optimus make it out of any of this alive," He stated. Nominus didn't need to know that was only one possibility of many. 

Nominus tilted his helm as if to question him. 

Prowl lowered his helm, "The planet dies and we're forced to abandon it. There's nothing left, and both sides take drastic measures to try and prevent it from ever happening." 

Nominus turned to look at the two other mechs escorting him, passing them a glance Prowl couldn't put an emotion to. They passed looks suspiciously, making Prowl suspect they were probably talking over comms. He didn't say anymore, waiting for their verdict. 

"How do you know that for sure?" Zeta asked, "-The entire planet?"

Nominus cut him off,” Why is Optimus fighting then? Why do you support him if you know it will ruin our species?”

“Because if it’s not you and Optimus then it’s you and Megatron! And Zeta is the one who builds the machines that drive our planet to extinction!” Prowl growled, snapping up at Nominus, “The common denominator is you and your obsession with the succession of the Primes! Optimus would be the first mech to negotiate between you and the Decepticons, but you and the Autobots are so intent on snatching up the power needed to exterminate half of our species! Optimus doesn’t even want to fight with the Decepticons, but you’re giving us no choice!”

Nominus stood, face dark as he glared down at Prowl. Prowl immediately shut his mouth. His field was indignant, as if Prowl had accused him wrongly. He dimmed his visor as Nominus’ faceplates hardened.

“Do not accuse me of not doing everything to end this war. You have no clue the lengths I have gone to right my predecessor’s wrongs,” Nominus spat. 

Prowl, realizing he had Nominus on the defensive, pressed the issue, “Really? Because Nova seems to be getting along fine with Megazarak. Seems to me you’re the only Prime who thinks segregation is the right--”

CRACK.

_ When Prowl fell into the darkness, he could feel others falling down with him. They clung to him, like ticks; hooking into his plating and infecting him. He could feel how their presence directed the vision, like little whispers suggesting things to what ever forces directed him.  _

_ He knew the one presence. Nominus Prime was blatant and heavy. His weight itself was enough to make them both fall faster, giving them both little time to prepare. They crashed into the vision, leaving Prowl reeling in an attempt to catch up with what was happening around him.  _

_ Prowl took a few steps off the Orion, the crowd around them flickered into existence. The half glitched cheering hurt his audials, but he stepped forwards anyways. His helm ached, his whole frame ached but somehow he knew that was the effect of Nominus being here and not the vision.  _

_ At his side, Optimus glitched into reality, "Prowl--"  _

_ Prowl shook his helm, ignoring him and heading towards the crowd. What were they? Decepticons? Autobots? They seem to fade in and out of focus, and Prowl couldn't pin a faction symbol on any of them.  _

_ Something was very, very wrong.  _

_ The vision started to tear, cracks of darkness entered the crowd. They didn't fit- their cracks looked two dimensional, ripping apart the reality he was stuck in. This wasn't a normal vision. Something, someone, was tearing it apart.  _

_ "Prowl!" Optimus called again, this time frantically.  _

_ He was too focused on the world falling apart around him to notice when the pain started. It came on suddenly, ripping through his chest, splitting him in two.  _

_ Prowl screamed.  _

Prowls helm shot to the side, his faceplates burning with the sudden impact. He resets his optics as he realizes that Nominus has slapped him, open-handed on the cheek. He looks up at him, confused, hurt and more than a little disoriented. At the very least the pain was gone here in reality. 

Nominus shakes his servo back and forth as if he hurt his servo more than he had Prowl's face. His face is pulled into a wince but it morphs into a scowl when he looks back to Prowl. 

"I am the only real Prime. Nova's title was removed from him, and Optimus is an interloper. Do not make that mistake again," Nominus spat. 

Prowl looked up at him, and tilted his helm, "And yet the other half of the Matrix is in Optimus. Primus wants you gone." 

Nominus' face twisted into an ugly scowl, both angry and offended. But he didn't lash out this time. Instead, he turned to snap at Zeta. 

"Half his rations again. He's talkative when he's hungry," He stated and turned on his heel, motioning for the others to follow him. 

Prowl didn't say anything else and watched the three of them exit in an angry huff. He fought back a needy whine of his engine, already starting to grind with the lack of proper fuel.

He was just going to hang on. Nominus wouldn't let him die. No. He was a valuable part of the Autobot machine now. Not a small insignificant cog that could be replaced; more like a drive shaft. He was necessary, and he could take comfort in that one, horrifying fact. 

Nominus needed him alive, but in what condition? 

His function in the great Autobot machine? Nothing more than a living crystal ball. 

* * *

"Tell me about the primacy," Jazz said, crossing his legs. 

Nominus looked back at him from the shelving unit behind his desk. He pulled down a datapad and laid it onto the table between them, looking Jazz over. 

"And why Is that of interest to you?" 

Jazz shrugged, "I thought you wanted to use me. I like to be informed on what I'm up against." 

Nominus sat back down at his Desk, on lining the datapad and giving a small, contemplative hum. He pressed something on it, then folded his servos down on the desk, looking at Jazz expectantly. 

"The primacy is nothing short of a superweapon, something that should be contained and only entrusted to the best of our society. In the hands of someone like Optimus…well, you see what's happening. He's restarted this entire war."

Jazz nodded, pretending to agree with that sentiment. He did, in a way. What was about to happen was going to get a lot of mechs killed. 

But he needed to do what was right. And he trusted Optimus to make that decision. 

"I told you where they plan on attacking, didn't I? I know all too well what Optimus is trying to ruin here," Jazz said, giving a deliberate look down Nominus Prime's chest. 

He didn't want to frag Nominus. There was very little Jazz found appealing about him, even if you did ignore the torture and corruption aspects of his personality. Jazz had simply had enough of the self-righteousness that seemed to run through upper command like a snake. His frame type, only slightly bulkier than Optimus' didn't appeal much to him either. It reminded him all too well of Sentinel and that fragger still made Jazz' plating crawl. 

Jazz did want to be on Nominus' good side. Knowing more than he had when this all started, he had some suspicions on why Autobot culture had so drastically changed after Nominus started his rule. 

The ideals of refraining from sentimentality reeked of Nominus trying to prevent another Nova and Megazarak situation and Spark bonds became ugly on the battlefield. The encouragement of casual interface on the other servo, seemed all too much like an opportunistic change to culture. Jazz suspected Nominus liked the power in it, how it drew lower-ranking mechs to his berth for a chance at a promotion. 

Jazz was learning to thrive in that culture. His only attachments were his loyalties; Optimus for trusting him again, and Prowl for saving him.

On the topic of interface, Jazz already had that aspect down from the beginning. But only now was he seeing exactly how advantageous it was. Sentinel was none the wiser to his schemes so long as Jazz climbed into his berth at the end of the day, guards kept their mouths shut so long as Jazz spread his legs, and now there was Nominus. 

A hunger Jazz was becoming more familiar with settles in his frame. 

"You have, and you've proved your loyalty. There is more you're willing to share, so tell me, why is it you called this meeting?" Nominus asked. 

Jazz smiled, "Like I said, I wanted to know about the 'primacy.'"

Jazz uncrossed his legs, spreading them deliberately and sliding a servo down his thigh. The motion wasn't lost on Nominus, who's optics drifted down between Jazz's legs. 

Nominus' attention snapped back upwards and landed on Jazz's optics, "Did Optimus require these services of you?"

Jazz stood, sliding onto Nominus’ desk and raising one leg to sit on its edge. He looked over Nominus once again, this time looking down the desk to his superiors hips, "Optimus won't let anyone touch him except for Megatron. They have very…Decepticon feelings for one another."

Nominus muttered, "You see why he can't be trusted to rule--" 

Jazz spun around on the desk, arching his back and bringing both legs up. Sitting on the desk, he places each pede on the armrests of Nominus' chair, trapping him between his legs. 

That hunger purred happily throughout Jazz’s frame with one, single realization;

_ He's close enough to kill. _

Jazz could pinpoint the exact moment that hunger had first appeared. It wasn't lust, or attraction-- Jazz rarely felt himself genuinely interested in interface past manipulation anymore. It was a need to concur. Not in the way the Decepticons or Autobots took colony planets, it was too personal for that. It was much more akin to the pleasure one has of removing a particularly annoying obstacle. 

His targets didn't even know he was dominating them, using them, concurring their urges and using it against them. 

The exact moment this door had opened was Sentinel's death; Retribution, liberation and destruction all in one swoop. He pictured the knife in Sentinel's helm often while they interfaced. It was the only way the act was even tolerable anymore. 

_ Nominus was close enough to kill now too.  _

He thought about it, more as a daydream than anything really tangible. Nominus' death now wouldn't do much, only let Zeta rise in his stead. No, for his death to mean anything, Optimus had to be there to receive the other half of the Matrix. 

But wouldn't it feel good? To kill the mech torturing Prowl and Blurr? Wouldn't it feel good to kill the mech who condones Sentinel's behaviour? 

To kill a mech was easy, to kill a system took a lot more thought and control. 

But here that system was, right between his legs. 

Nominus looked up at Jazz, Optics half dimmed as he looked him over. Jazz let him take it in, enjoying being attractive to someone so above him.

Nominus stood and immediately his spike was out and pressurized. 

Jazz angled his hips back and let his valve cover back. That hunger in him purred with the act, and daringly, he brought a servo up to run down Nominus' chest. The black of his servo was in stark contrast to the yellow of Nominus' chest plates. Idly, Jazz wondered what his black servos would look like in Energon-blue. 

Nominus didn't have the consideration for foreplay, instead he pushed in with one solid movement, servos snapping to Jazz's hips and holding them tight. His spike forced Jazz open, causing him to wince as the flared connectors of Nominus' spike looked for the corresponding ports in his valve. Jazz almost would have preferred it be this way, if he had not been expecting to meet up with Sentinel after this as well. 

He was going to be chafed by the end of this. 

"My Prime," he moaned, letting his valve flutter open, and Nominus finally slip into place. 

Jazz pictured Sentinel dead and Prowl at his side, then let Nominus use his frame, despite the discomfort. He leaned back, grinding forwards as best as he could.

"What is it you want?" 

The question tears Jazz out of his idle fantasy, and his helm snaps back down at Nominus just as another pulse of charge is sent through his systems. 

He starts out his sentence with a moan, "Mmmm…what makes you think I want anything from you?" 

Surprisingly, Nominus unhooks his spike and thrusts up into Jazz, throwing himself off balance and forcing a gasp from his intake. He forced himself to look directly at Nominus, trying to parse what he was going on about. 

"I've been watching you know. Your previous loyalties and Blurr’s accusations make you quite the suspicious character. Fragging guards at Trypticon? How close are you with that aft Sentinel Prime? Do you think I haven't been watching you?" Nominus smirks as he speaks, thrusting hard enough to make Jazz's aft slide back on the table. To compensate the spy grabs his shoulder, trying to hold himself still. 

_ Manipulator.  _

In that moment Jazz realized he wasn't the predator in the room. Nominus isn't close enough to kill, Jazz has let himself get close enough to be interrogated. 

Optimus Prime is the schemer and Nominus is the manipulator. What an odd combination. 

"Nothing against you, Prime." Jazz hisses as Nominus' cable flared just enough to chafe the inside of his valve, "I got questions that I need answered as well. Blurr just seems to have 'em." 

Nominus hooks into his ports again, rewarding him for his information. The flood of charge has Jazz arching back as lubricant finally starts flooding his valve, hopefully making the next swath of thrusts more comfortable. 

"And what is it that Blurr has that you need answered?"

Jazz swallow, thinking of something better than,  _ 'I need him to lead a prison escape plan.' _

"Shockwave-- the Decepticons," Jazz moans at the next pulse of charge and continues, voice box starting to get wobbly. "He was doing research on Prowl and his visions. And-- Blurr was a friend. A good one." 

"That sounds like  _ Decepticon _ sentimentality." 

Jazz swallowed, "It's functional sentimentality. Blurr is a borderline outlier; Optimus used his speed several times to evade you." 

Nominus stopped, going still and stopping the feedback loop. 

"And you think... what?" 

Jazz swallowed, "Blurr could be convinced, under the right motivation. I didn't want you to think I was trying anything funny. But he could be an asset for you, and a friend." 

Nominus gave a small hum, as if thinking the idea over for a few clicks. With each passing moment a cool rush of fear ran down Jazz's spinal strut. They only had a few months-- if he got thrown into prison now Starscream would arrive to nothing more than an ambush. 

"Okay." 

"Okay?" Jazz asked. 

Nominus unhooked from him and pulled out in one swift motion. Jazz gasped, digits clenching down on the desk below him as he tried to regain his thoughts. 

"I will set up a time for you to talk to Agent Blurr. But you have to promise No more secrets or I'll throw you in there with him." 

Jazz nodded, swallowing thinly, "I promise." 

* * *

"They're more talkative when they're together," The guard had said. 

Jazz stared down both Blurr and Shockwave from across the table, both chained safely to their seats. The interrogation room was becoming more and more familiar to all three of them at this point, but none of them spoke until they were alone once more. 

Not that there was any real privacy. Jazz looked towards the one-way glass attempting to find the faint outline of Nominus Prime in the audience. 

Shockwave was the first to talk, helm craning in a mock greeting, "Jazz Minor. To what do we owe the pleasure this time?" 

Jazz tapped the desk, peeling his attention away from the one way mirror and onto the mechs in front of him. He nodded back at Shockwave politely as he moved to address them. 

He ignored Shockwave’s question, "Agent Blurr, How have you been holdin’’ up?"

Blurr scowled at him, and had held that scowl since Jazz had entered the room. It only seemed to deepen as the Minor addressed him, and his entire frame sank back down into his seat in stubborn refusal. 

"Seeing as you're the mech who got me thrown into here, I'd say pretty horribly," Blurr spat and crossed his arms over his chest, "What the pit do you want?" 

Jazz slid his servo under the table, datachip perched precariously on his digit tips and he held it against the bottom of the table. Slowly, carefully, he drew a glyph on the table, hoping that Shockwave would understand. 

"Just have a few questions that's all--"

He was quick to the uptake. And careful digits slid over his own, taking the datachip into his own palm delicately. 

_ Digits-- not claws-- not Shockwave.  _

Jazz's optics shot up to meet Blur's, whos scowl lightened into a smirk. 

Jazz's spark sank. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Spare comments for a beggar?


	9. Nominus Prime is a Bitch; the Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments I'm really sorry I'm horrible at responding. Life's been really weird lately. I'll try to answer any on this chapter!

"I don't take on pity projects you know," Starscream scoffed. 

Optimus didn't take offence. Starscream was combative and demeaning to mechs he liked. The fact he wasn't outright violent meant he was more interested in Optimus' presence than he was letting on. It probably wasn't anything close to an appreciation of him, but tolerance was better than nothing. 

"I'm not a pity project," Optimus crossed his arms, "I'm here to ask a favour." 

Starscream uncrossed his legs under his console. He leaned in on an elbow over his desk, only giving a passing glance to the deck around them; no Megatron, no Strika. 

They could converse in peace. 

Starscream fluttered his optics up at him. It wasn't very often Optimus got to look down at a Decepticon and he took the chance to cross his arms and try to look intimidating. 

"Why don't you go to Megatron then?" Starscream asked, honey dripping from his words, "Oh. I forgot. You two tried to poke holes in each other last month." 

Optimus rolled his optics, "Yes. So now I'm here. What do you want me to say? That you're my last choice? Because you're not. You're my only choice." 

Starscream's smug expression fell into something more serious, and he leaned back into his chair, the back of it cracking with age. He scowled, "Your only option huh? Are you getting desperate then? Come on. Admit it. You're scheming behind Megatron's back again. He was right."

Optimus fought down the immediate surge of anger and took the moment to steal his features enough to not give himself away. Rolling his shoulders back, he made a vague gesture up in the air, "Only because Megatron is being an aft. Cyclonus insists this is normal for us but I have a bad feeling."

"Cyclonus is a child-- literally, and 'feelings' don't stop wars let alone convince Megatron you're doing the right thing here," the Second in command shot back, loud enough for a few mechs to turn their helms. 

Optimus scowled, "I'd like to remind you that Cyclonus was at one point your clone. Now can we stop this banter and get to the point? You're not the only mech I have to speak to this shift." 

"Oh? Look at you! Such a busy little Autobot. But like I said, I don't take on pity projects. Get lost before I get Strika back here to shoot you out the airlock."

Optimus sighed, resigning himself to forcing Starscream's hand. He took a step in, planting a servo down on Starscream's desk and leaned over the screen of his console, mustering a playful smirk of his own. He wasn't really into it, and he managed more of an angry grimace than anything else. 

"You said it yourself, didn't you? You need my mechs to get your Trine off of Cybertron. The  _ least _ you could do was entertain the idea that you owe me," Optimus said, unsuccessfully keeping the fire out of his voice. 

Starscream's optical ridges shot up in an unamused question, "You're not sleeping again are you?" 

Optimus felt his optic twitch and thanked Primus his battle mask covered the curl of his lip. Starscream was right of course, he hadn't been sleeping with Megatron since what a lot of what the crew was calling 'the incident'. He had tried one night, tired and desperate he had given in. He found a shift when he knew Megatron would be in his room. He had knocked, helm hung low as he waited for Megatron's smug faceplates to taunt him to berth. 

But no one had come to the door, and he hadn't tried again since. 

The fact that Starscream had been correct in his guess didn't help Optimus tired, aggressive mood. 

"Oh?" Starscream smirked, "How humiliating. Past antagonizing you, he's kicked you out of the berth as well?" 

Optimus ignored him, "You're leaving For Cybertron tomorrow. You're going to do me a favour and bring Bumblebee with you." 

Starscream scoffed, "Under what authority--" 

"Primus damn it Starscream listen. And you listen carefully," Optimus snapped, vocalizer dropping down into a harsh whisper, "If you want your Trine off of Cybertron you'll take Bumblebee with you. Make him your janitor for all I care. Those two mechs and the rest of the seekers are all you have left, so you'll do your damned best to get them off of Cybertron. That means listening to me." 

"I still have an army. And Vos--"

Optimus leaned closer, voice thick and oily with betrayal, "Vos is nothing more than scrap metal now, bombed to bits and used as an energon field. Megatron  _ lied. _ " 

Starscream sat back, silent. After a moment, his faceplates flushed a deep red. 

"Bumblebee will be in the docking bay tomorrow, ready for departure," Optimus pulled back, standing up straight, "he'll be going with you." 

Starscream ground his dentae together, "I suppose he will be." 

* * *

_ Shockwave, _

_ I needed your help. The mech I've been working with had been compromised; sent to the stockades. Sorry mech, I gotta get him out but that means Trypticon is up to you. Sorry to dump all this on ya all of a sudden but I can probably explain some things, so long as this message actually made it to ya, and I'm not arrested as well.  _

_ Things are messed up, really messed up. Megatron is planning an escape. There's a date and time attached and we gotta be in the Kaon shipyard with a ship at that precise time or Starscream is gonna leave without us. We got it all planned so long as Trypticon can be busted open by then. Don't worry too much about a distraction, I'll be Makin a whole lot of noise up in Iacon. I'm working on getting Brainstorm in to help ya, but he's not biting on The idea just yet.  _

_ I can help though. Prowl left me with a few names and ideas. Starscream's trine should be in the lower levels with you. I know they're not letting you out but there's another way to reach them.  _

_ The ventilation system wasn't meant to hold Autobots. I know Blurr is pissed about everything. I don't blame him. But he'll fit snug enough in those vents to get around. Skywarp’s good for one teleport with his collar on, and if you can get it off, he and Thundercracker could probably spring the whole place.  _

_ There's another mech too, Minimus Ambus. He's a load bearer, but an Autobot loyalist. Prowl suspected he was probably on the level above you. He can be convinced to escape with you, and if you collect enough spare parts, he's a real good tank if you take any fire.  _

_ I know there isn't much proof for you to trust me, especially after I got your little Autobot crush thrown in there with you. But hopefully, a little advice will help; Don't kill him, and don't use him as a living communication suite. Speaking from past experience he kinda hates it. Oh. And he likes oil cakes.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Jazz.  _

Blurr read and reread the message over and over again, trying to find some insight into it. He let it scroll over his HUD on repeat, each time believing something more of an explanation would arise, but it never did. All he made out was the names, the plea and absolutely no explanation. 

Why?

That was all Blurr wanted to know. Why come back to Cybertron just to try and leave again? Why work with the traitor Optimus? Why Trypticon?

There was absolutely no way to figure any of it out except for… 

“What is Megatron up to?”

Blurr sat up in berth and looked over the edge, immediately meeting Shockwaves, one large red optic. Laid out on the floor Shockwave didn't move at first, leaving Blurr questioning if he was even awake. But when his antlers cranked forwards, Blurr realized he must have just been thinking. 

"I don't know," Shockwave responded. 

"I don't believe you," Blurr accused, though without the ability to muster any aggression. 

"You do not need to. Truths often find themselves revealed in time. I don't know what Megatron is doing Blurr. I don't have contact with him at the moment therefore I do not know what he's planning." 

Blurr rolled over back onto the berth, to stare back up at the ceiling. He let Jazz's letter scroll over his screen once more. He didn't find anything new in it, but it made him feel like he was working again. Despite the absurdity of the situation, it made him feel like he was working an intelligence case again. 

They laid side by side for a long time. Blurr continued to find meaning within Jazz's words and continued to find none. Time meant little to him now; with his chronometer offline and no other way to measure time, Blurr found himself losing himself more and more within his own processor. 

"Up! Both of you! Servos against the wall!" 

Blurr sat up immediately, optics meeting with an entire entourage of guards at their cell door. Immediately his mind went to Jazz and the data chip he had tucked away safely. 

"Now!" the one in front barked. 

He and Shockwave stood, placing their servos against opposite walls so they were back to back. Only then did the guards shuffle in. Harshly, they pulled their arms back and locked them back into stasis cuffs, set low enough so they could still walk. 

The guards were never nice to them. Being Decepticon high command and an Autobot traitor respectively grew a special kind of animosity between the guards and them, leaving no room for mercy. 

Once secured the guard handling him pulled him back away from the wall, while several did the same to Shockwave, ushering them both out of the cell side by side. 

Marches to the interrogation room were always humiliating. Pushed harshly by the guard guiding him, the Decepticons of the lower levels liked to jeer at him as well. The leered, optics hungry from behind their bars as if taking out their frustrations on Blurr might grant them some sort of reprieve.

As he passed, he caught sight of two seekers, directly across from each other; one mostly purple and the other blue. They looked awfully familiar, but Blurr couldn't place their faces. They stared at him hungrily, but his attention sat on the lights of their collars. No one else was wearing them, and they seemed out of place. 

Blurr counted his steps as they moved, trying to memorize exactly how long it was taking them towards their usual interrogation chamber. But as they reached the door at the end of the hallway, they took a sharp turn left, down a second corridor. 

"Blur. Do you remember your undercover operative training?" Shockwave asked, earning himself a violent shove from one of the guards. 

Blur looked up at his cellmate, confused by the question and the seemingly out of nowhere inquiry. Of course, he remembered his training, he was a special operative and not some new cadet. What part of the training was of more interest to him. 

“I do. Why?”

“You will need it. Remember to cycle your ventilations evenly, and if you require assistance--” Shockwave was immediately cut off by another harsh shove. This time he staggered slightly, enough for one of the guards to reach up and grab one of his sensory horns. Shockwave let out a short  _ Bleep!  _ As he arched forwards to try and relieve the pressure on it. 

“Shut up!” they yelled, only letting Shockwave go as they entered a new room. 

Blurr was ushered in after him. Unlike their usual interrogation room, it lacked the table that sat in the middle of the room. In its place was a set of chains on either end of the room. The smell of rust and stale energon permeated just about any way Blur tried to turn away from it. 

Shockwave was taken to one side of the room. A guard shoved his pede into the back of Shockwave's knee, forcing him to kneel. They bent his arms backwards, wrapping the chains between his stasis cuffs and securing him on the floor, mostly immobile. When the guards moved away, he shifted a few times, bringing his knees under himself a little more comfortably. 

They brought a chair for Blurr. They shuffled him over to the other side of the room, and he complied as they set him down. They wound the chains around his pedes and the chair legs. He could probably stand up if he tried, though he wouldn't make it far with his legs restrained. 

Their escorts left the room quickly after that. Blurr found that suspicious like they didn't want to be around for what was about to transpire. 

"Listen," Shockwave said lowly, startling Blurr suddenly, "I will do what I can to aid you. But the information they seek, I simply do not have. I apologize for this in advance." 

"What-- what do you mean?" Blurr stammered. 

"Jazz's stunt; the one he pulled to get in contact with Megatron in the first place exposed a weakness. When he brought you to see me, and successfully got what he wanted-- while the Autobots have noticed somehow," Shockwave explained, "They plan on repeating that experience in order to get what they want; Megatron's current plan." 

Blurr leaned forwards in his chair. All that happened that day was Blurr committing a few war crimes and hitting Shockwave while he was chained down. Were they going to make him do it again? Because he'd do it gladly. 

"Well, if you just told them--"

"Shut up!" Shockwave snapped, his entire frame lurched forwards. 

Even as Longarm, Shockwave had never been prone to show any sort of negative emotion. The outburst was particularly surprising, as even in prison he had been nothing but professional and stoic, much to Blurr's annoyance. 

"I was arrested before Megatron was even known to be alive. Up until my arrest I had been in contact with Strika, and that had only been because of an issue regarding a medical procedure. I do not have the information they need Blurr. And now they intend to use your frame to drag that out of me. Do you understand? I cannot save you from this, even if I wanted to." 

They were going to torture them. 

All signs had lead up to it. Perhaps parts of his processor had tried to deny it if only to delay reality for a little longer. But now Shockwave has spelt it out, there's no denying it. He had been right about one thing; Blurr being an undercover agent he had training for enemy interrogation. 

What was worse, was that Shockwave's logic was sound. 

Jazz had already used their relationship against them and it had worked. The fact it wasn't now, was not some sort of new willpower on Shockwave's behalf. Nothing had changed since then. If it wasn't working now, there was really only one reason for it; The Decepticon scientist really didn't know what Megatron was planning. 

Blurr's lips felt cold as he spoke, "What…? No. I'm an Autobot. It was just wrong place, wrong time--" 

"And I was a council member. They do not care about who you are. They care about what they can get out of you," Shockwave said, returning back to a more calm disposition. 

Blurr stood up, outraged. Immediately his pedes caught on the chains but momentum carried him forwards. Body moving forwards and legs bending the wrong way, He fell. The chains dug in harshly against his light plating, no doubt denting. With his arms still bound behind him, there was no way to stand himself back up. His cheek pressed against the cold metal of the floor as his processor reeled. 

Of course, with Blurrs luck someone entered the room at that exact moment. He craned his helm up to see who it was. 

"...Nominus Prime?" He asked. 

There was another mech with him, but they lingered in the doorway, much less sure of themselves. They were familiar as well though his processor took a moment to provide their designation as Zeta Prime. 

"The one and only," Nominus responded, moving over towards Blurr. 

He was gentle, but Blurr found himself relieved when the Prime swept an arm under his shoulders and lifted him back up into his chair; upright once more. 

"I thought you dealt with deep space security--?" 

A third mech pushed past Zeta, though the speedster didn't recognize him this time. He wore generic Autobot colours; blue, white and teal. He brought with him a tray full of things Blurr chose not to recognize. He handed the tray off to Zeta as he entered the room. He bowed slightly towards Nominus and made his way over to Shockwave. 

"Shockey!" The mech jeered, "Today is the day! Do you remember what we talked about last time? Or has your processor rotted yet?" 

"I am aware of today's activities yes, Crackcase." 

Crack case caressed one of Shockwave's sensory antlers, gently stroking them between two digits almost lovingly. It made Blurr's tanks roll. 

Nominus waved Zeta in. He took one step into the room and closed the door behind him. Nominus had to wave him in a little more and had to continue to do as such until Zeta made it into the middle of the room. 

"Occasionally, one much get their servos dirty, Zeta. It's never preferable, but when necessary sometimes it just has to be done," Nominus motioned over to Crackcase and Shockwave, "and first servo information is always preferable. And I suppose, sometimes, you just have to do it for personal reasons."

Nominus turned to Shockwave and smiled, "You do not know how happy I am to see you here Shockwave. I've been dreaming of doing this for a very long time." 

Shockwave visibly retreated to the best of his ability as Nominus came to stand in front of him. Blurr couldn't see much with Nominus' back to him, but he could see Shockwave pull back uncomfortably. 

"He doesn't know what Megatron is up to!" Blurr barked. 

Nominus whipped around to face Blurr once again. His expression was unreadable, but somewhere between a curled lip and a smile.

"I'm sure he'll find something interesting to tell me. Besides, I have some new questions, some you may be able to help with Agent Blurr," Nominus said as he leaned on Shockwave's shoulder. 

"Anything!" Blurr jumped at the offer. 

"What did Jazz Minor gain by speaking with you a month ago?" 

"I--"  _ say it! Say it! Tell them Jazz is planning a prison break! Do it!  _

Though Blurr desperately tried to will the answer forwards, something else entirely came out of his vocalizer, "What's Jazz Minor got to do with any of this sir? Frankly, I'm actually genuinely confused about what's going on here." 

Nominus frowned, apparently not getting the answer he was looking for. He motioned to Zeta, who shuffled over to his side. With Blurr not performing to his standards, he fixated back on Shockwave. 

"A shame really. How you and I were almost on the same side" Nominus pet Shockwave's helm patronizingly, as if rewarding a child, "You hated Nova as much as I did. But you ran off with those warframes of yours. You were a council mech, betrayed by your cohorts for trying to play nice with the enemy. We could have done so much together Senator Shockwave. Was it worth it?" 

"Of course. Supporting Megatron was only logical," 

"Yet it's brought you here. You paid for your disobedience once with your frame, are you really prepared to pay that price again?" 

Shockwave didn't answer. He turned his helm away instead, making a point of keeping his vocalizer silent. 

Nominus snapped his digits, "Crackcase."

The interrogator was giddy in his approach. He held up a small saw-like tool, though it was shorter than any industrial tool Blurr had seen before. He moved around Shockwave, grappling his helm and forcing it straight. Shockwave's optic brightened as it met Blurs face from across the room. 

"Last chance Shockey. Megatron is at our borders. Why is he here? Why is he helping Optimus Prime?" 

_ Optimus Prime?! The repair bot?! The flunky?!  _

More importantly, he was an Autobot among Decepticons. That somewhat explained Jazz as well; Megatron was recruiting Autobots and working with them. He was expanding and the war was about to pick up all over again. Now, if only he could just figure out what all this council talk had to do with anything. 

Crack case approaches with a tool Blurr has never seen before. It's large, with a hinge like a pair of scissors. But the blades are curved sharply in opposite directions curved away from each other. He brings them up behind Shockwave's helm, raising them and opening them around one of Shockwave's audial antlers. 

"What are they here for?" 

Shockwave does not answer. 

Blurr watches helplessly as the blades are forced together. They severed the antler easily, cutting through right at the base cleanly. That didn't mean it was any less painful for Shockwave. His vocalizer immediately screeched into a pitch Blurr couldn't hear but felt with his very being. Shockwave thrashed against his chains with a vigour that shouldn't have been possible with the stasis cuff on, but they held him in position anyways. 

Eventually, he stilled. He hung his helm, and his frame heaved with every cycle of his fans. 

"If you don't tell us Shockwave, Blurr is next," Nominus said. 

Blurr swallowed. His sensory horn was extremely sensitive. Though he didn't need it for everyday life, it was the only way he could process the world fast enough while he was at top speed. It processed fast, but the infrared sensors were extremely delicate. To simply sever it will be excruciating.

Shockwave is shivering, and Blurr rationalized that his sensory antlers are probably just as sensitive if not more as they double as audials. Blurs internals clench sympathetically. 

Crankcase sauntered over to Blurr, coming to stand behind him. Blurr stiffened, fuel pump quickening as he felt both sharp sides of the tools come to rest on either side of his sensory horns. 

"Nominus--" 

"Nominus?" Zeta spoke up from the corner of the room, "Is this really necessary…?" 

Blurr didn't know where the sudden anger came from but Nominus was irate as he snapped at his partner, "You  _ do understand  _ what exactly we're dealing with here, don't you Zeta? Megatron has gone back on half of his principles! He's taking Autobot defectors now! With open arms!" 

"But-- torture--" 

"He put Optimus in a position of power! It's no longer Civilian versus warframe. Megatron has stooped to a new low, doing exactly what our predecessors did to start this war in the first place;  _ cross-faction sentimentality. _ " Nominus waved him off, "If you can not stand to watch progress then you can leave. I will reconsider a new apprentice. Sentinel Prime has always had a stomach for these sorts of things--" 

"No! No," Zeta stepped forwards. He shuffled behind Blurr as well, "I can handle it. If this is what it takes a true Prime… I can handle it."

"Good. Now take those things from Crankcase. I want you to do it," Nominus said. 

"What?" 

"Take them!" Nominus screamed. 

Blurr felt the tool shift around his sensory horn. It scraped at this paint. Scratching it down to the bare metal as it changed servos. His frame shook, and he tried to stay strong-- tried to remember his training. But in the face of new, unbearable pain Blurr felt himself wavering. 

Would giving them Jazz's data chip even spare him at this point? 

And what of the Decepticons? Nominus stated they were taking Autobots in now. Did Jazz defect out of his own volition? Was that even an option for Blurr at this point? Maybe that's why he hadn't given it over. Maybe some deep, scared and tired part of him saw relief in an escape. He could take Shockwave, some of the other Decepticons and just get off Cybertron. Would… Would Shockwave take him in? Longarm would have, and were the two of them really so different? 

His processor continued to spin as he waited for the blades to come down around his sensory net. 

"One more time, Shockwave. What is Megatron doing approaching the border? You will tell me. Or Blurr is the one that suffers this time," Nominus growled. 

Shockwave straightened out as much as the chains allowed him. He held his helm high and his red optic glowed brightly, "Nominus. No amount of pain will magically give me the information you require. Your mindless violence is exactly why you are failing."

Nominus scowled, “Fine. If you want to be that way. Zeta, go ahead.”

“No! No! Wait!” Blurr gasped, “Wait, wait, wait. There’s another Decepticon spy!”

Nominus held up a servo, stopping Zeta’s shaking servos from cutting off his horn. He glared down at Blurr, “Who is it?”

Blurr’s vocalizer glitched as he tried to form the words, “A mech! He’s, He’s in the science sector. He- Brainstorm!”

Nominus hummed nodded to Zeta, and the scissors came down. 

The pain didn’t register at first, but the sudden lightness of his helm did. He took exactly two vents before the agony washed over him. It started in the wires of his helm and seeped into every metal fibre of his being. Blurr screamed, but the noise felt dull compared to what was ripping through his body. It dragged every bit of energy from his frame. 

Blurr heaved forwards as his frame relaxed. He was overheating and his vents ran at full capacity to try and cool him down. With his helm dipped down energon ran down energon ran down into his optics. 

“-- fault, Shockwave. All of this could have been avoided--” Blurr could barely make out what Nominus was saying but slowly the ability to process things other than pain came back to him. 

“It is not my fault that you don’t see reason, Nominus,” Shockwave said. Though he was speaking to Nominus his optic was on Blurr. His vision blurred as energon distorted his vision but he could still make out how bright Shockwave's optic was. 

"Take the other horn," Nominus ordered. 

Blurr attempted to stay awake, but his vision continued to skew. Crankcase was walking back towards Shockwave when he finally lost to the agony and blood loss. 

* * *

Blurr woke up sometime later. His face was squashed up against the hard berth of his cell, half slick with drool. His frame still ached, and his helm felt as if it had been run over, but he was awake which seemed to be a good thing. Tentatively, he reached up and grazed his servo over his helm. Someone had taken the time to patch up where his sensory suite had been removed but he still winced as he touched it. At the very least, he wasn't bleeding any more. 

It took him a good few clicks to derive the energy to actually sit up. His helm gave a throb in protest but he managed to get himself upright and glance around the cell. 

Shockwave sat curled up in the far back corner. He was sat up, back towards Blurr and helm lowered about as far down as it went, craning his neck to hide it completely from Blurr's view. 

"Shockwave?" 

He didn't answer. 

Blurr shifted his legs over the side of the berth and slid down carefully. He crossed the space between them in no more than three steps. He stood for a minute, for once feeling taller than Shockwave-- almost like he was Longarm again. 

"Shockwave?" He asked again. 

He still didn't answer. 

Shifting on his pedes, Blurr bit his lip and reached out. A single-digit all but touched Shockwave's shoulder and the Decepticon spun around wildly, flailing a servo out to hit whatever had touched him. Had it been any other mech, the hit would have landed. But the small agent flung himself back quick enough to avoid the wild strike. His aft slammed against the hard concrete but he scuttled back a little further just to be safe. His vents clicked on immediately, preparing him for a fight but the blow never came. 

"For Prime's sake Shockwave!" He bleated. 

In the corner, Shockwave stared at him over his shoulder through a cracked optic. He had lowered his claws but his frame still screamed that it was ready for a fight. A Medic had patched over his wounds as well, but it was obvious it was a rush job and no more than a field patch. 

"Are you going to talk about this?" Blurr asked, still battling his own fear, "Or are you just going to sit there and try to kill anything that comes near you?" 

Shockwave didn't move, staring at him blankly. 

"Shockwave--" 

"Blurr, I cannot-- they took my audials Blurr. They took  _ another  _ part of me-- another part---" Shockwave whispered. 

Blurr shifted himself back upon his knees and shuffled forwards. Shockwave stared back at him like a startled animal, optics latched onto the way Blurr was moving. 

Blurr reached for his wrist port. Flipping the cover back, he extended his cable, offering it to Shockwave. The Decepticon hesitated but eventually offers his wrist port slowly. He half-turned to look at Blurr, but still kept himself tucked in the corner. 

The speedster took the offers wrist and flicked back the port. He plugged it in with little concern, more so avoiding the look of the scratched up port. 

**Booting… establishing connection…**

**Connection established.**

In the time it took to establish their connection, Blurr curled up against Shockwave's back. His connector throbbed as Shockwave entered his systems. 

Immediately Shockwave fought through Blurrs firewalls, and momentarily Blurr was sure the Decepticon had betrayed his trust and was looking for sensitive information. But he bypassed his memories entirely, going instead for his senses. 

**Audial feed enabled. Optical feed enabled.**

Shockwave streamed Blurrs perception, no doubt compensating for his missing audials and cracked optic. Once he understood what Shockwave was doing, he relaxed, letting the Decepticon activate whatever sensory streams he needed. More intimately connected, he could feel the anxiety rolling through their connection. He pulsed back his anger; the message of revenge clear between the two of them. 

_ :: illogical. You knew I was a master of manipulating processors, yet you'd allow me access to yours::  _ Shockwave's message appeared directly on Blurrs HUD. He considered it for a click before responding. 

_ :: Nominus is going down. He took-- took my ability to compute while running. He took your audials. I thought that made us partners::  _ Blurr sent back over their hookup. 

Shockwave slowly unbundled himself from the corner. With an audial feed now to process, the Decepticon spoke aloud, "... Do you mean that?" 

The Autobot shrugged, "You didn't lie about the senator thing. And if we don't get out of here they're just gonna keep hacking bits off of the both of us. So…" 

Blurr packages up Jazz's escape note and sent it over the connection. For a moment Shockwave's expression didn't change at all. He stayed completely still as he processed the letter and what it meant. His expression darkened suddenly and his optic dimmed down to a low maroon, basking Blurr in the low light. 

"When Nominus asked about Jazz's visit, I think he was wondering if he contacted us. And he did-- well tried too. the note was obviously meant for you--" 

Shockwave interrupted him, "Why?" 

"Because obviously, Megatron wasn't going to leave you here to rott--" 

"No. Blurr. Why did you hide this from the Autobots and why are you giving this to me now?" 

Blurr didn't have an answer to the first part of that question. He had thought about it even before the interrogation. Maybe after hearing about what they had done to Shockwave, Blurr already knew they weren't going to let him go. Or, maybe, he still held onto some feelings for Longarm. Either way, he wasn't about to say both of those things aloud. 

Amusement pulsed over their connection and Blurr immediately flushed, having forgotten that their processors were linked at the moment. He ignored the interaction and answered the second half of the question. 

"Obviously we're breaking out. I'm thinking you can probably make a better plan than I could, that's all," He sneered. 

The weight of the day hit him full force and he fought the urge to rip the cable out of both of them. Shock and determination had brought him this far, but it was wearing off now he had delivered the note. Blurr was tired, scared and desperate. 

Shockwave let out a long vent, letting down his own firewalls for Blurr to explore. Whatever he was feeling, Shockwave reflected it right back at him. They were tired, scared and desperate but at least they were together, for whatever that was worth. 

"Lend me your audials, and I'll stay here while you recharge," Shockwave offered. 

Blurr wanted to process what had just been done to the two of them, but he feared being alone just as much. He sighed ND leaned against Shockwave's side. The Decepticon wrapped an arm around the small speedster, tucking him in close. 

"This doesn't mean you're forgiven," Blurr huffed. 

Shockwave stroked his side soothingly, "of course not. Perhaps when I get you out of this we can work things out." 

"Shut up. I'm trying to recharge."

* * *

There had to be a way to apologize. 

There had to be a way to apologize because things had gone from tolerable to completely ridiculous. 

Optimus hadn’t spoken to him in weeks and now, and only passing in hallways had Megatron even glimpsed him. In a way, it had allowed him to ignore the problem completely; out of sight and out of his processor. Optimus stayed away, and Megatron didn’t have to deal with whatever he may or may not be scheming. 

In another way, their confrontation had been good for morale among his troops on board. Strika had finally relaxed about Optimus and his presence on board, making meetings much more productive in the process. There was no more subtle gossiping, no more awkward conversations with his command staff and no more talking back from the lower soldiers. 

But, also no Optimus. 

The issues started with paranoia. Worse than scheming in front of him, having Optimus out of sight and continuing to speak with mechs like Starscream raised an entirely new issue of him scheming where Megatron couldn’t see him. There was always a nagging fear of the idea that at any point Optimus could come out from the shadows and try to run off or ruin their plans once again. Strika was not worried about him manipulating Megatron anymore, but now both of them worried that Optimus might betray them both at any moment. 

It then progressed past that; Optimus was putting Bumblebee back in the line of fire. As soon as Starscream had changed the roster of the rescue mission Megatron had known something was up. But Starscream was angry enough about something that there was no reasoning with him. 

Besides, If Optimus was working with Starscream than something was definitely askew. 

Optimus stood across from him on the flight deck. He stood proud as mechs moved swiftly around the both of them. He leaned down to speak with Bumblebee momentarily but then the small mech scurried off. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

Megatron turned to Starscream and let out a sigh. 

“You have no idea what I’m thinking--”

Starscream snapped, “Yes. I do. Because you’re going to try to corner him as you do to me. You’ll restrict his access, or give him a babysitter. I’m telling you now Megatron, don’t. You need allies.”

“What the frag is that supposed to mean?”

Starscream leaned over to his side and raked his claws down Megatron’s back. Megatron roared, immediately pulling aways and putting pressure over the wound. 

“It means, when I come back from this mission, I’m going to kill you. I know about Vos.”

Megatron felt his lines go cold. It was unlike Starscream to be so open about his insubordination. But there was only one mech who could have told Starscream about Vos’ destruction. His helm snapped around to Optimus once more. 

“He’s the least of your concerns,” Starscream snarled, “I’ll be back in two months to rip your spark out. You better not die in the meantime.”

Starscream turned on his heal and stocked up the ramp to the shuttle. Bumblebee followed him, along with the rest of the crew. 

Optimus waved them off. 

The invasion was beginning, but somehow Megatron already felt like he was loosing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the support! only one more chapter before the big two-parter.


	10. I'll Say Goodbye Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blitzbee chapter!
> 
> you know that means angst lmao
> 
> Special thanks to DildoSwaggins who really amped up the angst in this chapter.

Bee knew immediately that this was going to be a frustrating, tedious and awful long trip.

His captain, Starscream, had no use for him. Which was to be expected. He was here to serve as Optimus' optics and audials and there was to be some confrontation because of that fact. Bumblebee had expected this as he wasn't an idiot. His quarters were private, and he had no issues hiding out there and playing video games for the month that they would be in space. 

He had also assumed foolishly that his anemic bond would somehow feel fainter the further away from Blitzwing he was. 

Unsurprisingly, nothing ever went to plan. 

Bee met Blitzwing's optics from across the mess hall. 

Starscream had brought quite a few seekers with him, and a giant cannon. He didn't know what they were all for just yet, but he was sure he was gonna figure it out eventually. That was fine enough, who he has assumed was  _ not _ going to be on the crew roster was Blitzwing. 

Which put a damper on the whole adventure. 

Bumblebee gathered up his fuel and the datapad he had been pouring over. There was no regulation saying he had to fuel in the mess hall, so he took his things and decided it would be best to fuel in his room from now on. 

He made it all the way to the entrance to the lodging wing of the ship before a servo stopped him in his tracks. 

Bee flipped around, scowling up at icy faceplates. He scowled, trying to look intimidating despite their size difference. 

"You're the one who told me to stay away from you! So what do you want?" He snapped. 

_ Click. Whir.  _ Blitzwing's large red smile grinned back at him, a small giggle bubbling up from his chest. For the first time in a long while it made the smaller mech uncomfortable. 

"Just wondering what a small Insect like you is doing here!" Blitzwing giggled, "Are you a little spy? Oh-oh! Do I get to take you in for interrogation?!" 

Bee's entire being bristled at the thought. There was such a difference between this Blitzwing and  _ his Blitzwing.  _ Sometimes Bumblebee couldn’t even recognize them as the same mech. And maybe they weren’t. Maybe his conjunx really was dead and gone. 

Bee ground his dentae together, “No. I’m here because I was asked to be that's it. Now, I want to go finish my fuel alone.”

“What?” Blitzwing’s laughter drummed up to a wild cackle, “Did you see a ghost?”

"You Fragging, slag-eating, sparked from Unicron, pit spawned, Glitch!"

Blitzwing howled, almost doubling over as he laughed. He put a servo on the wall beside him, almost doubling over as he did so. 

Bumblebee turned on his heel and walked away swiftly, calling back over his shoulder, "I should have let that scrap let eat you in your recharge!"

* * *

The stars were familiar and welcoming. Bumblebee knew that the starts here were different than those on earth, but he had never bothered to learn proper constellations so it didn't really matter. But looking out into the dark of space, speckled with bright lights reminded Bee of much simpler times. 

They reminded him vividly of the nights he sat on the shore of Lake Michigan, giggling about stupid things with Blitzwing's random persona. He could almost feel the cool water lapping up at his pedes when he lost himself to thought. A cool breeze would catch up under his vents, and the glass in front of him would fade away. If he focused hard enough he could even feel the hum of a stronger engine pressed against his side. He loved to lose himself to that feeling, pretending it was Blitzwing comforting him from the other side. 

And then, too suddenly something would pull him from his thoughts; someone passing him in the hall, or even just the ship creaking. The memories that had been so powerful at his lowest points, felt now like they were slipping from him. Once the strongest steel, they now felt like thin ice. They too shattered under a pede step or the simplest distraction. 

It was hard mourning a mech, but mourning the memories that went with him was just as bad if not worse. 

The stars helped. They looked so similar to the ones on earth it was just a little easier to pretend. 

Bumblebee crashed out of the memory he had been engrossed in. He didn't move from his place at the window, optics still locked on the stars. He brought a servo up to the glass and carefully placed it against the glass. It reflected back, and Bee traced the reflection back to his own face. Blue Optics looked back at him, but he didn't see himself. 

His optics shot up to the red pair above him. 

"What are you trying to accomplish here bug?"

Bee stared down at the abyss of stars below them, he hissed and pulled his servo away from the window. "What does that even mean? Besides, I'm not that small."

_ Click. Whir.  _ Red faceplates reflected in the window, and bee immediately braced for the yelling, "You're puny, hardly noticeable!"

"You noticed me," He countered weakly. 

"Because I'm cursed with having my spark share a bond with your's."

"I know." Bee curled in on himself, turning away from the window, but refusing to meet the triple changer head-on. 

"Whatever this is? I hope it ends soon, and-"

"I know."

Btlizwing stepped back, intake curling down. "I don't understand it."

"I know." He shuttered out a shaky vent. "It was a mistake, but at the time it felt right, everything was falling around us and it felt like there was no hope, but you gave me hope, and well that's what happened. I was confused, scared, exhausted, and you were there, like some lifeline to hold onto through this confusing hell. Just a servo that I thought I could hold onto through it all, something so I wouldn't get lost in the sea of war. Then you were shot down, I felt it, felt your t-cog explode in Vos," he rested his servo over his own t-cog. "they didn't get your processor yet, but in those moments I realized that I made a mistake. Well. A mistake on my side. If we didn't bond, then they would've killed me first, what use do I have? You? You're one of Megatron’s closest mechs, I'm a tiny scout, a traitor." He shrugged. "But for those few cycles, I wasn't alone, and I had some form of hope."

Blitzwing felt the bond, felt how cold it was, how heavy bumblebee's frame was, the small bot was exhausted. Whatever this was, he saw his bonded die, felt him, felt Blitzwing die. Bumblebee didn't care anymore, he wanted it over, this whole ordeal to end. Blitzwing reached out, but paused and glanced away. He was still hurt, still confused. Why would he bond with someone so...so pathetic?

Bumblebee slammed the bond shut this time. He didn't need Blitzwing's feelings getting mixed up in his own. This close, the bond came as naturally as breathing. Once upon a time, it had been a blessing; guiding them through flights and warming them both at night. 

Now it was a curse; a cold and damp thing that clung to them both. 

"It's okay," Bumblebee said softly, "I never figured out what you saw in me anyways. I already know what you think of me. You've made it very clear." 

_ Click. Whirr.  _

Blue faceplates stared down at him, impossible to read an expression from. The small mech tried not to think too much into it. He owed it to himself to stop; to grieve instead of holding onto hope that this Blitzwing would come around. 

"How did I die?" Blitzwing asked

"For primus' sake," Bumblebee dragged his servo down his faceplates as he turned towards the triple changer, "That's why you've been following me around?" 

Blitzwing ignored the question, instead focusing on his own, "You mentioned a blasted T-cog. The reports Megatron have don't mention anything specific. I need to know if it can be prevented." 

If there was one memory that still stood like rigid steel among the other glass memories it was that one. The images of Blitzwing mid-flight with embers flying out from his vents were something he didn't think he'd ever forgotten. Their past goodbyes were not something he wanted to recount. The wounds still felt too fresh, and too deep to discuss. 

"It was a very specific set of events," Bumblebee sighed, looking back to the stars, "You don't have to worry about it. I promise. Is that all you wanted?" 

"I need to know how," Blitzwing said. 

"No. You don't," Bumblebee replied, sounding more tired than before. 

"I have a right--" 

"You melted from the inside out while I desperately clung to you in a final attempt to take out safeguard. You knew you were going to die partway through the fight, but continued anyways for my safety and the mission," Bumblebee said, matching Blitzwing’s stoic tone,"You're T-cog had been blown out by Sentinel Prime and your new one didn't integrate properly, locking you into a cycle overheating yourself. You pushed through to the end, melting both yourself, safeguard and me partially. You died mid-air, and I passed out when we collided with the ground. Had you not died for my sake, you would have kept your memories of it all, and we wouldn't be here."

Blitzwing didn't say a word. 

Bumblebee stood stiffly. His optics darted down the hall, where a pair of seeker wings stood high at attention, obviously listening in to their conversation. He tried to assure himself Starscream would keep away but found himself feeling numb about the entire situation. 

"So there you have it. Pretty hard to replicate your death so. You're safe or whatever," Bee turned back to the stars, "And you can finally leave me alone." 

Bumblebee didn't see what kind of expression Blitzwing made, nor did he want to. But the mech had some respect and shuffled away. The pede steps stopped him from falling back into the stars just outside of the window. 

Bee sighed, finding himself alone in the hallway once again. 

For some reason, it didn't feel as relaxing as it had minutes earlier. 

* * *

“You're moping and it's bringing the entire mood of the ship down. Look. Just because you and Blitzwing are Conjunxed doesn't mean you have to be at each other's throats all the time.”

Bumblebee looked over his shoulder to meet optics with Starscream. The Air commander stood proudly in his hab suite doorway, having used an override code to get in. When Bumblebee squinted at him critically, confused about his sudden appearance, Starscream just shrugged.

“Can you tell him that? He's the one that won't leave me alone now” Bumblebee offered, turning back towards his desk and the gaming device he was playing on.

Starscream wasn’t done with the conversation though. Bumblebee heard him stalk into his room, shutting the door behind him.

“Is that not what you wanted? His attention?”

Bumblebee sighed, “They're different mechs. It just took me a while to see it. They aren't… Aren't the same.”

Starscream rounded on a pede and sat down on the edge of the desk. His optics wondered to the console in Bee’s servos, squinting as he tried to make out what was happening on the screen. 

Starscream made an annoyed chuffing noise with his engine, “Hm. I hope my Trine isn't like this.”

“Your trine?”

Starscream rolled his wrist, trying to parse what he was thinking into words, “Skywarp and Thundercracker. It's… Been four million years. I just hope they still… Well, I wouldn't want to end up like you and your boy toy there.”

Bumblebee winced, “So long as they still remember you and you have a bond--”

Starscream looked up from the game, meeting optics with Bumblebee. As Bee took his optics off the game, the ‘GAME OVER’ noise played. 

“We didn't bond.” Starscream admitted, bringing his servo down to lightly scratch at the corner of the desk, “It was my decision and I've never regretted anything more in my life. Skywarp wanted to bond desperately, but he always jumped into those kinds of things too quickly. And TC never mentioned it, but he would have done it if I asked.”

“Why not?” Bumblebee Immediately questioned. 

Starscream silent for a moment, giving the yellow mech time to question exactly where this conversation was going. The seeker seemed to fight with himself, lip curling into a snarl and then softening down into a frown several times. It seemed as if he fought with the words coming up his intake, trying to keep them down or force them out. 

“The war. I was stupid. I guess.” The seekers finally got out, “ I wanted to wait to do it in Vos, at the old Primal cathedral there so we were atop the spires. Well. Now Vos has been destroyed, and my trine have likely moved on.”

Bumblebee thought for a moment about Blitzwing, then responded, “If they love you they won't.”

“And how can you know that?! For all I know they think I've abandoned them!” Starscream almost yelled, standing up from his spot on the desk. He threw his servos up in frustration. 

Ah. Pieces fell into place quite suddenly. Bumblebee realized suddenly why Starscream had come to seek him out. Though he hid it well, even in his EM field, the mech was anxious. He was so scared his trine thought he abandoned them or moved on without him, and the only mech with relevant experience was him. Bumblebee offered the most comforting smile he could muster, though he knew it looked more sad than anything. 

"Because I still love him, and he hates me. Love is stupid Starscream. I'm sure that they know you're coming for them," He explained. Who 'he' was didn't need to be said. It was obvious whom he was referring to. 

After some hesitation, Starscream asked, "… Would you think Blitzwing was still coming for you?"

"He died for me. Literally melted himself from the inside out to get me to safety. I wouldn't doubt him for a second," Bee said softly. 

"You talk about him like they're separate people."

The small mech took an invent, pulling up old memory files. Prompted, there was so much he wanted to tell Starscream about his dead Conjunx. There had been so much to Blitzwing, so much that even he hadn't seen it all. Given the chance to speak forever on the topic, he may still run out of time. He had to settle on something quick though, just enough to get his point across. 

"The Blitzwing I knew… The one I bonded… well. This one time, we were picking something up in deep space, before we even bonded. There was an Autobot that survived the initial attack." Bumblebee paused, thinking back to the Tyrant Usurper and the weeks they had spent together on the ship, "He was going to kill him but… when he realized just how easily I could have been that. Mech… He helped me patch him up. This Blitzwing constantly antagonizes me for no reason. I'm sure you can see the difference."

"So what?" 

"What do you mean?" Bee asked. He looked back towards his gaming console and starting up a new game, "My Conjunx is dead Starscream. All I have left is my team and my mission. But Optimus has spread us so thin I don't even really have them anymore."

"He's not dead--"

Bumblebee didn't want to talk about this anymore. 

"He's dead. The mech who patched me up after a sparkler attack, the one who woke up in a medical berth after being shot and held me so tight I almost choked, the one who watched the stars with me over Lake Michigan… Starscream. He's gone. As soon as you see your Trine Starscream you ask them to bond immediately. And then you never let go."

That was all the advice he could give Starscream. Hold onto those you love and never, ever let go. 

Star scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away. "I don't need your advice, Insect. Of course, I'm going to bond with them. Though, is that really good advice coming from you of all mechs."

"I don't regret bonding with Blitzing. Not ever. He did it to save me, and I will never, ever regret the bond we had."

"Had. You said the bond you had," Starscream said, looking back towards him. 

Bee mashed a button, praying somehow he'd be able to skip this dialoge, "I regret being bonded through the time loop. I wish every day it never stayed. Blitzwing doesn't deserve a bond he never wanted."

Starscream put a servo on the console, lowering It and forcing Bumblebee to look back up at him, "And what about you?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Do you deserve it?" 

That made Bumblebee pause. Did he deserve this? 

His processor immediately went to the fight with safeguard. He had been absolutely useless then, and it had caused Blitzwing his life. 

"… maybe. Maybe I do. Maybe Primus is punishing us. I don't know. I don't like to think about it."

The seeker’s lips pulled up into a smile, though he didn't look happy. Quite the opposite in fact, "Primus is a cruel master, isn't he?" 

"Just the worst."

Silence fell between them again as Starscream looked back towards the door. He sighed, but it sounded content and resigned like Starscream had made peace with the situation. He leaned back on the desk, arm stretched out behind him. 

Suddenly, he spoke up, "Would you like to witness our bonding?" 

Bee was taken aback, "Is that something that you're supposed to do? Have witnesses?" 

"Of course! Do you not have witnesses?!" 

Bee shrunk back in on himself, dropping the game console and peeking up at Starscream, "We ran away together. Or well, Blitzwing kidnapped me and then ran away. He was trying to save my life at the time… Again. Kinda wish I had the chance to pay him back for it, you know?" 

Starscream reeled back, looking offended. He brought a servo up to his cockpit, looking aghast, "How did you get your bond officiated if there were no witness?" 

"We never did. Optimus had to fight to get me into the medical room to see him more than once." 

Starscream scoffed but kept his smile brightened, "You're an idiot. Both of you."

Bumblebee tried to smile back, but it only strained his face, "Yeah. We were…. But yeah I'd be glad to be a witness if that's what you want."

Starscream stood, trotting towards the door. He smiled as he passed; warmer than before. It wasn't quite friendly, but no longer cold and distant either. 

"And when Megatron's dead, and I lead the Decepticons there won't be anyone that can stop us," He chirped. 

"Good. That's the way it should be. I mean. Not the dead Megatron thing. But the other thing." be smiled back, keeping the mood light. 

Starscream shrugged. Of course, Starscream would do what he would want and Bee had no stake in it. But… Well, it was nice to be included in something. He tapped the door code in and it opened. 

Bee looked back to watch him go but luck again was not on his side. Beige and purple plating blocked the doorway almost like a second door. He looked taken aback for a moment, one optic wide while his monocle zoomed in and out reflexively. 

Bumblebee felt the energon raise to his cheeks. How long had Blitzwing been standing there?

"Planning an assassination are you?" Blitzwing said as he composed himself. 

Starscream sneered before Bumblebee even had a chance to speak, "Primus, Blitzwing how long have you been standing there?!"

_ Click. Whirr.  _ Red faceplates growled at them both, "Were approaching Cybertron, Starscream. We don't have time for privacy!" 

Starscream crossed his arms but conceded, holding up his servos, "Fine. Fine. Start getting the cannons warming up, and get everyone to their stations."

* * *

Something, though none of Bumblebee's business, was wrong. 

Bee had entered the hall, not really sure exactly where he was wondering, but knowing he needed the stretch. Activity on the ship had been on the uptick for the last few hours but even as Bee walked the corridors he knew something was off. 

The crew ran past him, almost toppling him over in the process. The small mech steadied himself, only to watch them continue to run down the dark hall, not even giving him a passing glance. 

Bumblebee took a moment to orient himself, picturing exactly where he stood and where the main deck of the ship was. He noted, once his helm stopped spinning, that the mechs had been running towards the main deck, signalling something very wrong. He debated for a minute how much he wanted to involve himself. Something was very wrong, but was it really his duty to be concerned? Let alone help? 

He was already headed towards the main deck before he finished that thought. It wasn't even a question in his processor. He stumbled into a run, concerned about the commotion. 

He arrived at the main command deck after everyone else. 

Basked in the blue glow of the planetary shield around Cybertron, mechs moved around the command deck frantically. Stood in the main door, he watched them swarm around like ants, moving from one side of the main deck to another. Orders were barked around the room, and Bumblebee watched mechs fumble to try to fulfil them. 

"Primus damn it why aren't we firing?!" Starscream's voice rang out, identifiable even among the chaos. 

Mechs tried to answer him, but none could over the noise. Bumblebee stepped in a little closer, trying to make out a little more. 

"It's the main cannon commander! It's not responding!" 

"We can't stop now!" Starscream screeched, "Their defence system had already spotted us!" 

Bumblebee stared at the incoming shield. It was approaching too fast. He didn't have much time. 

Bumblebee was a repair bot. For a very long time, he had been ashamed of that fact. Every part of his being longed for more than that; to see the stars, to explore and go on daring missions. For a very long time that was all he wanted. 

He knew better now. The stars and the vacuum of space could be a dangerous battlefield. Exploration often leads to dangerous discoveries. Daring adventures often ended up with someone dead. Being a repair bot was not glamorous. Often times it had been boring and tedious but it had been safe. When Bumblebee realized he wasn't just a repair bot anymore, it was too late to choose. He was a hero. And he had to fit that role. He had learned that from his Conjunx. Sometimes the right thing was scary and dangerous. But that didn't mean you got to run away from it. 

Bumblebee turned on his pede tips and ran out of the command deck. He didn't have long-- probably only clicks and he needed to be out there immediately. He could do this. 

He was a fuck up. He was a bumbler. He Conjunxed mechs on a whim. He was a dropout. He didn't listen to Optimus' orders. But just this once, just this once he'd do the right thing and he wouldn't fuck it up. 

No one followed him. He hadn't expected them too. The warframes didn't care about him. They never had. Maybe if Bulkhead was here, he would have said he was stupid for doing this. But he wasn't, so Bumblebee was on his own. 

He skidded to a halt in front of the airlock. Immediately he grabbed one of the jetpacks behind it, quickly figuring out how to accelerate with it. It was much too large for him as it was meant for Decepticon grounders.bit it would do. It just had to get him to the fusion cannon out front. 

Bumblebee walked into the airlock and sealed it shut behind him. He was going to be a hero. He could do this. 

Bumblebee punched the release button and the void of space sucked him out into the nothingness. 

Courage was a strange thing. Bee hit the jetpack and he focused on righting himself towards the main canons. He didn't feel much at all; not the cold of Space, not fear, not concern for his own well-being. What he was about to do, had to be done. It was as simple as that. They had to make it into Cybertron at any risk, or they'd all be captured and killed. 

He hit max thrust and swung a rough, gliding along the edge of the ship as he went from its port side to the bow. The main fusion cannon was massive, large enough for him to crawl into. He landed on top of the thing, pedes magnetizing to its surface. 

Bumblebee looked back to the main deck window. Several pairs of res optics met his own. He recognized Starscream, mouth agape as he stared at the yellow mech. But beside him was Blitzwing, stoic face unreadable. That didn't matter. Bumblebee had better things to focus. 

He marched towards the end of the cannon, making his way to its barrel. He got on his knees, looking over the edge. It looked like an empty maw of an animal, waiting to eat mechs whole. It should have scared Bumblebee, and it did. But fear didn't matter anymore. He was here to do a job. 

Bumblebee climbed down into the opening. He spared a moment to look at the approaching forcefield. It basked him in a cool blue shadow, elongating his shadow down into the barrel of the cannon. If it didn't mean imminent death, then it may have been beautiful. But Bee didn't have time to waste. 

:: What in Primus' name are you doing out there?!:: Bumblebee winced as Starscream's voice screeched on his comm line. 

:: Fixing your cannon. I'm a repair bot:: Bumblebee pinged back. 

:: Well you're pretty Fragging stupid for a repair bot! We're approaching the barrier! If the cannon won't vaporize you, that forcefield will!::

:: I know. But if someone doesn't get this fusion cannon working then we're all toast! So let me do this! For Prowl and Jazz and everyone else!:: Bumblebee barked. 

He took a look around, trying to parse out exactly what was wrong with it. He travelled deeper down into the barrel. A little way down, something sparked, and Bumblebee dashed towards it. He recognized that kind of sparking; a loose connection. Electricity sparked between the two exposed wire ends, illuminating the inside of the cannon. Bumblebee always found that odd; how one small mistake or puncture or gap in the wiring could throw everything off. It was the main wire; eight gages and on the positive side of the circuit. No wonder the cannon wasn't charging up. 

:: Get your aft out of there!:: Starscream barked. 

Bumblebee ignited his stingers. Sure, his captain was correct in the fact this may be fatal. But he wasn't offering any other solution. He heated up his stingers, priming the solder from his subspace to start work. 

:: It's okay,:: he pinged back,:: I have someone waiting for me on the other side.::

It was ironic really, that he would go out as his Conjunx had. Blitzwing had died saving him and Optimus' mission. It was only right Bumblebee did the same. 

All of Bumblebee ached to see him again. 

He twisted the two wires together, flinching as it sparked at him. He pulled out the solder, thinning his stingers before sealing the two wires together. He pulled the electrical tape out of his subspace and sealed it together. 

A purple, ominous glow started forming at the back of the Canon. Bumblebee decidedly didn't stop working, focusing more on trying to get the machine stable. He grabbed the panel that had fallen away from the frayed wire and slammed it back into place. He brought up his stingers back up once more, turning up the heat and began welding it back into place. 

Radiation warnings appeared on his HUD, getting more and more apparent and the fusion cannon continued to power up. He got a few good tacks in, securing the panel in place, but by then his HUD was obscuring most of his vision. 

Bumblebee pulled back, starring the light directly on the face. Who knew death would look so purple? It glowed ominously, flickering slightly, making him think there was probably more damage. But at least it would fire. If it would get them through the Autobot barrier then it would be worth it. 

It wasn't over yet. Bee hadn't melted, and most of his frame could withstand this proximity, but that didn't mean he had enough time to fully escape. He pivoted around, optics on the exit of the barrel. He kicked off particularly hard, disengaging his magnets and allowing the momentum to continue to carry him Forwards. 

Exiting the end of the barrel felt like a breath of fresh air. But that didn't mean he was free yet. 

This close to Cybertron the planets gravitational pull caught onto his mass and  _ pulled.  _ Headed straight for the force field, Bumblebee tried to flick on the jet pack once more. 

Nothing happened. 

Bumblebee looked over his shoulder, a light on it flaring an emergency red. The radiation must have done some damage to it. Not facing down the barrier as gravity continued to pull him towards the planet, Bumblebee knew his fate was sealed. 

He was at least gonna die a hero. Even if he wasn't recognized, he would know it. Starscream would know it. 

Blitzwing would know it. 

_ 'I'm coming for you, Blitzwing. Just wait a little longer'  _ Bee mouthed to the universe. 

He shuddered his optics, and let his frame go limp. He just hoped it wouldn't hurt. He hoped it would be instantaneous. Being a hero didn't mean he had to suffer. At least he did the right thing. He didn't screw this up. He did everything right. And now all he had to do was surrender. 

He gave a passing thought to this timelines Blitzwing. Hopefully, the bond break wouldn't be too hard on him. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve any of it; not the surprise bonding, not Bee's forced attention, and certainly not having to go through the pain of losing a bond. 

Bee brought up his memory files. His Conjunx had once told him to think of their bonding in times like this. The way Blitzwing had kidnapped him and held him tightly. The way their sparks reflected in each other's optics. Primus, he missed that. He missed him. But Bumblebee understood why he did it. Sometimes the only choice you had was the right one. 

The space was cold. Which Bumblebee thought was funny, given the last time he had almost died it was from Blitzwing's engine overheating. It was much more lonely this time. 

But that was okay. He'd see his Blitzwing again soon. And that's all he wanted.

_ I'm coming.  _

_ Wait for me.  _

. 

. 

. 

**HURK!**

Something hard wrapped itself around the little mechs midsection, making him feel nauseous with the impact. His optics onlined immediately but it took a moment for the static to clear from his vision. Peculiarly, the blue glow of the barrier was moving further away. His entire frame was limp, but there was definitely something large holding onto him. 

Something large majorly purple. 

:: FOR FRAG’S SAKE WHAT IN UNICRONS NAME ARE YOU DOING?!?::

**CHOOM!**

The purple beam of the fusion Canon appeared instantly, only mere meters away from him and his saviour. Bee watched it meet the field, setting off a full rainbow of colours as a hole pierced through it. It was the most beautifully destructive thing he had ever seen. He watched it wide-eyed as they continued to fly away. 

:: PAY ATTENTION TO ME WHEN I'M YELLING AT YOU!!::

Bumblebee arched back and looked over his shoulder, meeting the face of a mech he knows intimately well. 

Blitzwing's angry face growled down at him. His dentae were bared, and visor a bright red. Despite the anger, the tight anxious ball in Bumblebee’s chest released. He smiled up at the triple changer, watching the fusion Canon reflect in his visor. 

:: YOU WOULD HAVE DIED YOU IMBECILE! YOU'RE HALF RADIATED TO DEATH! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?!:: the triple changer continued to yell over the comms. 

Bee responded to that easily,:: Well if I wasn't gonna do it. Then no one would have. And it had to be done::

Blitzwing dared to look surprised at that answer. His mouth opened, but he didn't say anything, just banked back towards the ship. The hull of it was breaching through the hole it had made in the barrier, and they had little time to get inside. 

When they were back in the airlock Blitzwing shifted Bee in his arms to cradle him. He shifted, attempting to get comfortable as he would have when the two of them were together. As they waited for someone to open the airlock and let them in. But now back in an atmosphere, they could both speak openly.

It was silent. And very awkward. 

Bee cleared his throat, "So. Um." 

"Don't even ask," Blitzwing said between clenched dentae.

"I won't," He smiled, rolling on his side to better cling to Blitzwings arm, "I already know the answer." 

The triple changer scoffed, shifting his arms to better adjust to Bee's wiggling, "I don't see how you'd--" 

"No one deserves it. To die out there alone I mean. I get it. I saved someone too," Bumblebee clung to Blitzwing's arm a little tighter, "and it's just the kind of mech you are. You're big bad and scary but deep down you're just a big teddy bear." 

"Insect! I don't care for you!" Blitzwing yelled down at him. 

Bumblebee didn't care though, he just turned his helm into Blitzwing’s chest. He looked up at the still angry mech, but all he could do was offer a small, tired smile, "yeah. Okay. Whatever you say. You know I learned this from you, right? You and your stupid self-sacrifice." 

"What?!?"

The door to the airlock opened and a very angry Starscream stared at them both. Bumblebee leaned over, meeting his optics. The seeker didn't seem so scary compared to a massive fusion cannon. The seeker snapped, and a smaller red medic whipped around into view. 

"Honeymoon is over, you spike suckers," Starscream snarled, "Knockout, get these two irradiated. We have mechs to rescue." 

Bumblebee sighed and relaxed back into Blitzwing’s arms. 

His Conjunx was just going to have to wait for another day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the next two sections are done, and the next part should be posted Wednesday so stay tuned!
> 
> thank you all for commenting!


	11. Though It's the end of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh boy. part 2/3 is here. it's not any better.
> 
> Warning for that major character death tag

Optimus Prime checked his chronometer. 

Excited, overheating frames surrounded him, each one burning up with the anticipation of the oncoming battle. They waited not on his signal but on Megatron's. In contrast, Optimus felt cool. Any frame brushing against him felt contrasting warm that only reminded Optimus of how isolated he felt. 

On the other side of him, Megatron stood stoic and stiff. His optics were vacant, looking past the bay doors but he was focused on something. The Prime could only guess what he was thinking about, maybe he was watching his chronometer as well. He tried not to dwell on it, more concerned about the oncoming battle. 

Optimus wished he had something to say; Something clever or inspirational. But he didn't nor was it his place. This was not his army nor were these his mechs. Bulkhead was hanging back on the Nemesis and Cyclonus had been too focused on other things to make much contact. 

When his chronometer clicked over one last time, the bay door cracked open revealing the asteroid belt that would be their battleground. 

The Autobots weren't stupid. When the Decepticons had moved into formation the opposition moved quickly. A series of warning shots from their larger artillery and a few scouts had forced them here, to the largest asteroid belt on the edge of Autobot territory. It put them at a disadvantage; the debris gave the Autobots something to walk on while also disrupting normal flight paths. For a position they were going to have to hold for the next month, it wasn't his first pick. 

It would have to do. 

The suction of empty space almost threw him forwards, but a large servo came down and held his shoulder. Optimus chose not to look up at whoever had steadied him 

::Stay in my sight:: Megatron said over the comms. His servo tightened around Optimus' shoulder. 

Optimus shook it off, still refusing to acknowledge anything. Instead, he engaged the thrusters on his jet pack and took off as soon as the bay door had opened enough for him to do so. 

The vacuum of space provided much easier flights than anything within ozone. No resistance meant he only needed his thrusters for staring rather than to keep up his velocity. Decepticon fliers poured out the flight deck behind them, moving into their defensive position. 

Optimus wasn't alone for long, a massive warframe moved in beside him as the first rounds of blaster fire begun. Optimus gave the Magnus hammer an experimental twist before immediately gunning it-- Megatron on his tail. 

What the Decepticons did have on their side was misdirection. The goal here was to aggrivate and hold attention not to invade. But the Autobots would assume it was a bout to gain territory or even move the battle out of the asteroid belt. And well that would be a welcome outcome, it was not the point. The point was to make noise. 

Optimus engaged the Magnus Hammer, heading directly for the front of the Autobot line. Without ozone to singe, the electrical current didn't arc and flash to make lightning. Without a place for the built charge to jump to, it continued to build. Optimus could feel it, as if the Hammer, after being left dormant for months, was eager to finally be let loose. It threatened to backfire the current up his arm, but refused, waiting for a better target. 

And there were plenty of targets. 

Optimus let loose on the first Autobot that dared jump off an asteroid. Pike held high, the mech didn't stand a chance nor did he see it coming. With one swing the hammer collided. The built-up charge let go, electricity flashing brightly as it finally had something to conduct with. Between the light show and the smell of burnt insulation, the mech when limp, drifting off in the direction Optimus had hit him in. 

:: You're going to draw a lot attention swinging that thing around like that,:: Megatron stated, dealing with another mech behind them. 

:: That's the point if you didn't remember:: Optimus said, darting off again.

If Megatron wanted to follow him that was fine. But Optimus Prime was not slowing down. Not for a minute. 

He didn't advance on the Autobot line, instead of moving along it at full speed, letting the hammer gather charge once more. 

Above them, well, whatever 'above' meant in the directionless void of space; above them Cyclonus came into view. At first flying past both of them then looping back in a maneuver that definitely was not part of any discussed flight patterns. He repeated the motion twice, flying off then circling back. Optimus watched him pace like that, slowing as he made it into a better position. He wasn't the only one to notice. 

:: Cyclonus is working for you again hm? What are you having him do? Watch both of us?:: Megatron asked. 

:: Not at all--:: Optimus shot backwards, narrowly avoiding a stay blaster shot, :: I was going to ask you the same thing::

Optimus kicked off of the asteroid, swinging the hammer at what seemed to be a full squad. The arc hit one mech, but at its current voltage, it’s arcked to another, hitting the both of them as the charge looked for somewhere to ground itself. 

There was a purple blast that shot directly behind Optimus, flying over his shoulder and demolishing the asteroid the rest of the team was standing on, throwing them all adrift. 

:: I don't need your help:: Optimus shot back over the comms, turning just in time to see Megatron’s fusion cannon start to cool down. 

Megatron looked stiff, :: No. You don't. But it will make it easier. So I'm _helping_ ::

Optimus shit off again, ignoring Cyclonus above him as he dipped low, squeezing through smaller gaps to try and throw off his babysitter. He didn't need this conversation. Not in the middle of a blasted skirmish! 

Megatron followed him still, blasting through chunks of rock where the gap was too small for him to follow. 

The smaller mech turned around, fling backwards, :: If you think playing nice now means I'm going to help you when Starscream gets back then you're sorely mistaken, Megatron!::

:: What the hell does Starscream--oh. No. This isn't about Starscream!:: Megatron seemed to roar at him. 

A servo wrapped around his pede and both of their engines fought as Optimus tried to dart out of his grip. Megatron won out, keeping his engine just high enough to keep Optimus in place. 

:: Then what is it about?!::

Megatron brought his fusion cannon back up, almost directly at Optimus' helm. He didn't even have time to react before it discharged. The shot immediately flying past his help to a ship behind them. 

:: I am sorry,:: Megatron said. 

:: Why? It was going to shoot us--::

:: Not about the Ship Optimus!:: Megatrons, engine ticked up a gear and he pulled the smaller mech close to him,:: You listen and you listen well. I will not humiliate myself again. I am sorry. No matter my anger with you I should have not threatened you.::

Optimus' optics spiralled open in Surprise. For all of their faltering around one another, having Megatron be so blatant and open is a shock. Optimus kills his thrusters and openly blinks at Megatron for a moment. 

:: So just, please. You don't have to do this alone. Let me help you,:: Megatron looked almost pained to ask, the word please making him wince. 

:: My teams are gone Megatron-- I am alone--::

Megatron pulled him in, arm coming around his waist lightly. It gave him plenty of room to run if he wanted, though that was Probably Megatron's intent. His frame was warm too, so much warmer than the cold space around them. 

:: You are not alone. Not anymore. Not ever again. You trust me in berth, trust me in battle:: Megatron spoke softly. His optics still darted around them both, making sure they were safe enough to stop and speak here. 

They had eventually floated to the edge of the fight, where fire was less dense and they could take a moment to speak like this. Though they weren't completely safe, it did give Optimus a chance to think. Did they always have to do this back and forth? 

:: Megatron-- I--::

There was no sound in space, no way for noise to travel through particles. But, that didn't mean Optimus didn't scream. 

The mass of mech collided with Megatron, sending the two of them flying down in another direction. It was way too large to be Autobot in origin and too darkly coloured. It didn't slow either, thrusters fire hot behind it. Optimus didn't immediately recognize the alt mode but it was powerful and a flight frame. 

Optimus turned, immediately focused on following the mass. He turned quickly, almost not registering the second assailant. When he turned to move, a skilled shot landed directly into his left thruster, sending him spinning himself. He steadied himself quickly, optics searching for a mech against the silhouette of the asteroids around them. Looking around frantically, and effectively stranded, Optimus' spark lurched in his chest. He engaged his remaining thruster and shuffled himself against an asteroid, hoping for partial cover. But there was no such luck. 

A second shot hit his wing, rendering the entire jetpack useless. He shuffled it off, optics still trying to figure out where the blaster fire was originating. He gripped the rock bellow him, and kicked off with his pedes, clutching the Magnus Hammer to his chest. Heading in the direction Megatron was carried off into, he immediately sent out a distress signal. 

With Strika handling the battle, there was very little chance his signal would be answered. 

It took him a few leaps across several asteroids to find Megatron again. Still wary of the Sniper, Optimus approached slowly, trying to make out exactly what or who had attacked Megatron. 

The Warlord was in front of him, grappling with a beast former. The thing was massive, almost Megatron's size but was a bright blue and purple against the greys and blacks over everything else. It was wolf-like, with a large maw wrapped around Megatron's arm, biting wildly. There was an awkward amount of kibble on its back, and Optimus had sworn it had thrusters earlier. 

:: Megatron!:: Optimus charged his hammer and kicked off one last time. Hammer swung backwards, he aimed directly for the wolf clawing at Megatron. 

What Optimus hadn't expected, was for the beast former to transform. It must have known what was happening and it darted off Megatron and transformed. Optimus watched it rearrange itself, pieces falling perfectly in place as it flew away; A jet. 

:: There are other triple changers?!?:: Optimus shot Megatron a glare as he gripped his arm to stop himself from flying past him. 

Megatron didn't look down at him, instead, watching the Jet circle them both. 

:: Not a triple changer-- his name is Sixshot. As in six forms, not three,:: Megatron explained. 

His swords were already raised as Sixshot circled back to them at full speed. Megatron grabbed Optimus by the waist with one servo, using the sword in the other to graze Sixshot's undercarriage. He continued past them, and Optimus watched him transform becak into a wolf as he stopped on an asteroid. 

:: We need to retreat, now,:: Megatron snarled across the comms. 

:: What?! Aren't they yours? Him and the Sniper?:: Optimus questioned. 

Megatron’s hold on him tightened,:: Blackshadow is here too?! Primus, Overlord won't be far behind. We need to get back to the Nemesis, Now!::

His thrusters kicked up another notch to full throttle. Any asteroid in their way was blasted through as Megatron made a direct route back to the main flagship. 

:: What is going on?!:: Optimus winced as debris smacked into his shoulder. 

Megatron’s gaze didn't waver from his destination,:: Do you remember what I said about Megazarak taking the phase sixers in the divorce? Yeah, well, they're here. And they don't particularly like me. What I can't figure out is why here and now--- HURK::

Both of them jettisoned forwards as a shot hit Megatron in the back. Momentum carried them both forwards, slamming them both into another asteroid. Processor realing, Optimus tried to look behind them. 

The wolf was back, this time perched upside down on a small asteroid, just watching from afar. Off to the other, a black silhouette sat stark angst rock, a massive gun stood brace end on the ground and barrel near the mechs face. Between them, floating idly was another mech. Blue, Grey and Purple stood out brightly given their surroundings. But the mech was massive, larger than Megatron and even Lugnut. He smiled down at both of them, lips pulled back as if being pulled back by invisible hooks. Optimus couldn't look away; something about the sadistic grin spiralled his attention down into it. Somehow more terrifying than the blank stare of Tarns mask, every part of Optimus screamed at him to run. 

::Megatron:: Overlords smooth voice came over their comm channels in a lax roll, :: And this must be your pet Prime::

Sixshot bounded to the next asteroid, perching himself anew. His helm tilted, tilting some of his kibble with it. :: Does ol' Megsy look less spikey to you? Or is it just me?::

Blackshadow scoffed, picking his rifle back up,:: Another civilian Prime? What a pity. At least our job will be easy then.::

Panic fueling his lines, Optimus couldn't do much as Overlord drifted towards them. He reflexively charged the hammer, swinging it in a wide circle as the huge mech came into range. 

Overlord stopped it with an easy grab to the extended pole of the hammer, the head not even making contact with his plating. He stared down at the Prime, his smile not faltering for a bit. 

:: Cute. You'll learn soon that we're on a whole different level, little Prime.:: His servo tightened around the Hammer, threatening to pull it from Optimus' grasp:: Now hand over the Matrix before I start ripping your plating off to take it myself::

:: That's my Matrix!!:: 

Megatron yelled beside him, shoving a sword into Overlord's side. The mech roared silently in the void and lurched back, sword still buried into his hip. It has them both room to move, and Megatron was already grabbing at Optimus and taking off again before he could make heads or tails of the situation. 

:: They're Megazarak's pet war machines,:: Megatron said as they gained a little distance between them and their assailants,:: Our only chance is to make it back to the ship. If they want the Matrix, that means Nova is trying to regain the Primacy. We can not let that happen. Do you understand?::

A Rifle shot flew over their shoulder. Optimus nodded, focusing ahead as he charged his hammer. He could ask questions later. 

Sixshot dashed along with the asteroids in his wolf form, but Megatron flipped his thrusters just as he leaped and the wolf went flying past them both. The temporary slow down was all the Sniper needed though, hitting a shot directly in Megatron's back. 

Optimus looked back at the wound. It only made it through his first layer or armour, but another shot like that would do major damage. 

Optimus looked back towards the Nemesis. They still had a whole battlefield to cross, and help didn't seem to be on its way. At the speed they were going they wouldn't make it. They didn't have speed or firepower on their side. 

Optimus needed a plan. 

Megatron gunned his thrusters once more, but this time Optimus shifted in his grasp to face backwards. There wasn't too much he could do bu use his blasters but they wouldn't make a dent in the much larger mechs. The Magnus hammer didn't seem to be much help either. Panic enveloped Optimus spark as he realized there was so little he could do. 

:: I will distract them,:: Megatron stated like a fact,:: You need to get to the Nemesis and get out of here.::

::--what? no. You don't have to this alone--::

There was no ceremony for their goodbye. Megatron was usually into dramatics but there was no time to make this look nice. Megatron just let him go and let his momentum carry him in the right direction. Flailing in an attempt to get back to the fight. 

But this was Megatron. He'd be able to handle it...right?

Optimus turned his helm back to the Nemesis, starting to plan his route back. Without the jetpack, it would take longer to plan a route but he'd make it. 

Optimus grinned. It was going to work. It was definitely going too--

He looked back at Megatron. 

:: Keep going!:: Megatron snarled across the comms. 

Optimus froze though momentum kept him floating in the right direction. Back in The thick of the asteroids, Megatron stood with only one sword braced in front of him. Blackshadow sat back, taking potshots at the Warlord. With Sixshot at his back and Overlord at the front, Megatron looked just about as panicked as Optimus felt. 

But Megatron always pulled through. He always did-- that's why Optimus always-- always--

Their descent on him was slow. Sixshot went in, snapping at biting at the back of his throat. Megatron would have dealt with that easily enough if Overlord wasn't at his front, throwing punches of his own. With an assault on both sides, and Blackshadow occasionally blowing a hole in his armour, Megatron looked overwhelmed. 

But Optimus assumed that couldn't be the case. Primus, even he never really killed the Warlord before, only incapacitated him. It was an impossibility; not even worth consideration. Megatron would be fine, he just had to do his part and get back to the Nemesis and scream at Strika to send help. 

He was drifting close to the ship’s port side now, almost within range to magnetize himself to it and make his way to the Docking Bay. Aiming a servo in the opposite direction he fired a stray shot, trying to give himself a little more momentum. His spark constricted, but Optimus tried to ignore his worry, and instead throw himself into the task at hand. 

Optimus reached out as he approached the ship, digits touching its cold metal. Realizing he had heated up considerably during the pain, the Prime flared his plating and let the void around him access more of his internals. Optimus magnetized himself to the ship, orienting himself to stand upright on its hull. He turned his help back the way he had come, looking for hints of maroon plating. 

He focused on a distant asteroid, one where clashes of blue, maroon and black plating still stood stark against the rock. The four pairs of red optics shone brightly against the darkness around them, enough so that Optimus could still make out what was happening. 

Optimus' tank dropped. 

The fight had moved some, no more than a few asteroids. Megatron was kneeling now, pink energon on his frame making him look slick and Shiny. he was braced forwards on his sword, vents flared open Overlord stood in front of him, saying words that Optimus could make out from this far away. Was he taunting him? Making a point? Optimus would never know. 

Blackshadow was at his back, riffle pressed directly to the back of Megatron's helm. Optimus watched breathlessly as Overlord crouch down with him, his servo moving towards Megatron's frame. 

The Warlord's optics shot up, somehow immediately finding Optimus' own. Wide and bright, Optimus could feel the fear running through Megatron's lines; could see exactly how panicked he was. 

Optimus was grossly familiar with that look. 

:: FRAG, PRIME!:: Megatron screamers over the comms, :: You need to get out of here! Stop looking back you insan-::

Optimus watched him get caught off, his entire frame lurching as Overlord thrust his servo into his frame. Megatron's entire frame sagged forwards. There was a moment of resistance as his frame stiffened, holding onto the last of his life. But it was futile, Optimus knew that from experience. Overlord pulled his servo back, gripping something Optimus couldn't see. 

Megatron sagged forwards for the last time, his frame finally greying. 

Megatron was constant. Between the time loops, the fighting and the deaths. Megatron was always there. He didn't die. He was the leader of the Decepticons-- a God among mortals. Megatron wasn’t-- he couldn't. 

The Prime stood still on the ship, clutching the hammer it was the last lifeline he had. And maybe it was. Why had he run? He should have been there, should have put himself in front of Overlord. Maybe they would have left if they had his half of the Matrix--

As Overlord stood, raising up Megatron's crumpled up spark chamber in his servo and presented it as a trophy, Optimus watched in abstract horror. The less logical part of his processor still expected this all to be a trick, for Megatron to jump up like he had faked the whole thing and stab Overlord through the spark. 

No suck luck. Overlord tossed the crumpled up metal to the side, his optics settling on Optimus. 

He wanted to stand tall, directly challenge the murderer to face him down. But he had taken Megatron down so easily. The was no way Optimus stood a chance on his own. 

His spark felt like it was shrinking in his chest. 

_Get up. Get up._

No matter how he willed it, Megatron was not going to get up. He was dead. And there was nothing Optimus could do from this far away. 

There had been a finality to their last goodbye. Back during the invasion of Iacon, they had left each other once, expecting to never speak on good terms again. But this didn't feel the same. Then, Megatron was supposed to only forget the loop, not disappear completely. 

Was this it? No more Megatron? No more fights on earth? Or rolling around in the mud? 

No one to hold him at night, when the weight of everything came crashing down on him in the silence. 

Megatron's death left Optimus so very alone, so very suddenly. 

Sixshot was already bounding towards him, fangs bared but All Optimus could think about the nights he wasted angry at Megatron. 

A stray shot hits the hull beside him, and the fear of his own death takes over again. The wolf is halfway to him and he still needs to find help. 

Optimus takes off, forgoing the docking Bay and instead heading towards the command deck window. There he may be able to get Strika's attention and finally get help. 

He barely feels himself move, everything feels wrong but he doesn't have time to dwell on the fact his sensory input is acting up. He tries to ignore the dizzy feeling by numbing the parts of him that seem to be acting up. 

The glass comes into view as he rounds the hull of the ship. Reflecting gunfire made the sheet of glass bright with Colour, making it difficult to see inside the Nemesis. 

Optimus brought a servo up, slamming it down on the glass as he made out who was inside on the main deck. Several pairs of red optics shot up at him, open wide in surprise. But with them, tucked down low and behind a massive frame, a blue pair looked up at him. 

Strika stood on the main deck, servo stretched out in a gesture she had frozen in when she saw Optimus. Who was across from her was much more concerning.

Megazarak stood only a foot or so taller than Strika, the massive spike on his helm only contributing to his size. His optics burned a bright crimson as he stared up at the Prime, though unlike most mechs on deck his expression was neutral. Optimus didn't want to assume he was expecting this; he had only met the mech once after all, but there was no way he should have been so calm. 

Nova on the other hand, looked awestruck. Pieces of what Megatron had said and the situation clicked together and Optimus scowled. Nova had sent the phase sixers after _him_. Not Megatron. The Warlord had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just trying to apologize to Optimus. 

Nova's expression changed quickly. Despite being the smallest mech in the room, the angry glare that crossed his faceplates was much more aggressive than even Strika could muster given the situation. His optics almost went dark with the way they dimmed to cobalt. It made Optimus’ spark drop. His mouth opened, and he yelled something on the command deck that was impossible to hear from this side of the glass.

_They killed the wrong one! Frag it!_

There was no help coming. 

Determined not to make this asteroid belt a double grave, Optimus pulled himself towards the glass and kicked off of it just as Sixshot slid across the ship’s hull towards him. Narrowly missing a snapping wolf maw, he shot below the ship, Magnus hammer ready with charge as he tried to think up a new plan. 

He fell under the hull but his processor came up blank. Well, not totally. But plan 'Z' was the last of last hopes. Had it really come to _that?_ In his decent Optimus looked back over, now unable to tell Megatron's Grey frame from the asteroids that surrounded it. His spark felt like it fizzled as he searched, looking for some sort of hint of the mech. 

Had Optimus known it would go this far-- had he known that their arguments would lead to--

Well. He would have admitted the truth. Megatron had been right. There was a plan. Just not one he would have appreciated. 

Megatron had been right, his suspicions sound, and because Optimus had tried to keep everything a secret he was dead now. Megatron shouldn't have even been following him or trying to apologize-- or-- or--

_CHOOM!_

A blaster shot hit Optimus square in the shoulder, almost blasting the thing straight off. Energon scattered in little pearls around him reflecting the light of his optics. Pain shot through him, almost blinding him as he tried to focus on what was going on around him. 

The next moments were terrifying. The pain made it impossible to focus on who was attacking him, but the thought that Blackshadow had finally caught up to him was all-consuming. So consuming of his processor power in fact, that he didn't see the seeker diving towards him until it drove into him at full force. It collided with him, thrusters not stopping as they impacted. 

Shaking, Optimus raised his good arm and engaged his blaster, aiming for his back thruster. He tried to steady himself, but it was useless. Instead, he tried to time his shot, waiting for the shaking to pause for just enough time to--

:: My prime!::

The seeker had not been Sixshot as he so feared. Combined with a familiar voice and now recognizable Colour scheme, Optimus had enough information to power down his blaster and sink into the hold on him. 

:: Cyclonus-- I need a report--::

Cyclonus held onto him tightly, cupping his frame to his chest as they aimed for the edge of the asteroid belt. Thrusters at full speed it was obvious that they weren't quite out of danger yet. 

:: Out of the asteroids, only Sixshot will be able to follow us into open space. The other two are grounders, but it's also likely they won't want to split apart. If we can make it that far everything will be alright. Sir:: Cyclonus spoke evenly despite the ongoing chaos. 

Optimus watched Overlord and the other two convene below the shit, all enraptured by something. He squinted, trying to make out what they were looking at when Overlord finally held the thing up. 

Prime immediately looked down at his injured arm. Just holding on by a few wires, the entire arm had gone limp. But in contrast, it wasn't the condition of his arm that was the issue, it was what _wasn't there._

Above him, Overlord held up the Magnus Hammer proudly above his helm. In that moment, Optimus was sure he had lost everything. Right down to the one weapon he had that could take on the Autobots. 

They exited the asteroid field, and just like that, the ordeal was over. 

Optimus had lost. 

It didn't matter how well the escape from Cybertron had been. It didn't matter. Once Starscream found out Megatron was dead, he'd race back to try and take the throne. Bumblebee and the other Autobots would likely be killed in the process. 

It was over. 

:: Report, right:: Cyclonus' vocalizer clicked across his comms,:: Bulkhead had been evacuated with the Allspark on a shuttle and awaits us not too far from here.::

_Plan Z was at least still viable._

It had come to this then. After everything, Optimus supposed there was no way to cheat fate. 

He felt numb. Looking over his shoulder he could see the escape shuttle they were headed towards. It was small but would house the three of them comfortably on their journey. 

Emotions burned out, and light-headed from the energon loss, Optimus nodded,:: Set course for Earth. There's someone there we'll need help from.::

:: Yes, My Prime.:: 

* * *

Strika was screaming and it hurt Nova's audials. 

"THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO KILL THE AUTOBOT! NOT LORD MEGATRON!" 

Though Nova agreed with that sentiment, it was obvious his Conjunx didn't. Megazarak leaned on the main controls, picking at his claws as the General continued to shout. Nova was just as angry, though through their bond Megazarak put in an effort to soothe him, hushing assurances that they would get the Prime soon enough. 

"When we made this deal, I told you Overlord can not be held responsible for any collateral damage," Megazarak looked up, lips parting into a predatory smile, "I'm sorry it just happened to be your Lord and Saviour Megatron the amazing. But oh look," 

The hulking warframe stood up to his full height and motioned around him, "No high command. Where are they I wonder? Oh right. All shot off on some important mission or murdered. Blaakaracnia on some backwater planet raising a child, Starscream and Blitzwing on a ship on Cybertron, and Shockwave likely murdered in an Autobot prison. Looks like you need a new commander." 

Nova smiled brightly as the Colour drained from Strika's plating. 

"Nova," Megazarak smiled brightly, "You've been promoted to second in command of the Decepticon forces." 

"You cannot possibly--"

The new Decepticon Lord bared his dentae suddenly. His weapons systems audibly onlined and twin cannons turned towards the general, the threat clear. 

"Make the announcement Strika. Be a good femme now and I'll let you keep your position." 

Strika nodded stiffly, obviously not happy but willing to proceed to keep her life. She stepped towards the main console and pressed the comms button. She didn't speak at first, instead of swallowing. 

"Go on. Declare the Prime dead as well. He’ll be gone soon enough," Megazarak urged, "Or shall I have Overlord go after Lugnut next?" 

Strika shook her helm and finally spoke up, "Decepticons! Megatron has fallen. It is time to Retreat. All Hail Megazarak!" 

:: All hail Megazarak!:: The comms yelled back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all! part 3 should be this weekend! Thank you everyone for the support and comments! AHHHH
> 
> EDIT; PSA this fic has a happy ending. i know shit seems bad now, but Optimus makes references to plan Z, which will fix a lot of the shit going on but is in fact an afront to God himself. 
> 
> THIS FIC HAS A HAPPY ENDING FOR ALL 3 OF THE MAIN PLOTLINES. WE'RE JUST NOT THERE YET


	12. Don't Blame Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final part! this time, the escape from Cybertron!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for Assault during sex (not really sexual assault, the fragging is consensual, the stabbing is not), and implied torture of a torturer.
> 
> It's mostly just people getting what they deserve, but I understand if that is uncomfortable with some people.

"I've been thinking a lot about philosophy lately," Jazz whispered. 

He rocked into Sentinel Prime's Valve languidly, distracted by the task at hand rather than the Fragging going on. Pleasure ran through his lines, but Jazz found it secondary as he stared down at his Prime's faceplate. Jazz's optics ran over Sentinel's throat, simply thinking-- planning. 

Sentinel grunted, "Do you really have to chatter right now?" 

Jazz had planned this all perfectly. He built a routine with Sentinel that would make sense, that would immediately put him exactly where he wanted. And he wanted to be here, for the first time in months, he wanted to frag Sentinel. 

Jazz, on his knees on Sentinel's berth just smiled down at the prone mech, "Shush. Indulge me. Say you knew a mech would eventually kill someone. But they hadn't done it yet. Would that justify killing them?" 

Sentinel Prime's Valve clenched down as his face contorted in confusion. Jazz didn't blame him. There was absolutely no way that Sentinel could possibly figure out what Jazz was referring to. That didn't matter. Sentinel didn't have to understand, he just had to listen. 

"This is the most unsexy thing you could have brought up," The Prime said. 

"Answer the question." 

Sentinel sat up in his berth. Propping himself up on his elbows he met Jazz's visor, starring at him. He was obviously annoyed, but Jazz didn't care. 

"I mean, yeah. If you know for sure that he would kill someone," Sentinel ground out, "By the Magnus, now will you finish me off?" 

Well if Sentinel insisted. 

Jazz's pace slowed, part of his body preparing itself for what he was about to do. That dark hunger he had grown so accustomed to fluttered in anticipation. It was a welcome friend in this moment. Jazz stroked it like a cat, telling it to wait for just a few more clicks. They'd both have what they wanted. They just needed to wait.

"Of course," Jazz said easily. 

He slipped a servo up into his subspace. He followed Sentinel as he laid back down. Jazz loomed over his Prime, pretending to return to the rhythm of their interface. But instead of speeding up his thrusts, he stopped. 

"Jazz! What the frag is it--" 

Jazz pressed the energy blade against Sentinel's neck, pressing into his main fuel line. 

"--now?" Sentinel finished, "Jazz. My spark. What are you doing?" 

"You said it yourself. Someone planning a murder deserves to die," Jazz said, inotation gone from his voice, "Maybe you don't know it yet. You don't even know them yet. But you will. And that's not even all of it." 

Sentinels optics shone a bright blue, brighter than Jazz had ever seen them before. He studied them, seeing the mech Sentinel was and hating it. 

"Jazz. Jazz you don't know what you're doing. Jazz--" Sentinel said. 

"I know exactly what I'm doing," Jazz smiled down at the Prime, flashing his dentae, "And its funny. This isn't personal. Primus. I wish it was. I wish I was slitting your throat because I could. Not because I have to. But honestly? Honestly, you're just a good distraction. You're not dying in battle and you're not dying because I hate you. You're dying because it's convenient. And that's all. Somehow that's even more pathetic." 

Sentinel opened his mouth to say something else but it was too late. Jazz turned the knife onto its top and  _ pushed.  _ The electronic blade sunk into the Prime's neck easily, cutting off whatever he was going to say. Energon bubbled up around the wound and Sentinel bucked up, reaching up to grab the blade. 

"Ah! Ah!" Jazz yelled, pinning his arms back, "Didn't you listen to any of the medics lectures? It's not the stab that kills you. It's taking the knife out. Right now that blade is keeping all your Energon on the inside, Take it out and you'll spew like a fountain." 

Sentinel stilled, optics locked on jazz as his vents worked on their highest setting. Jazz slipped out of his valve, taking a moment to tuck his spike away. 

"Truth is, I don't even have to kill you. Just gotta make some noise," Jazz said softly. His tone went cold, and he spat on Sentinels’ face, "I ain't you. That knife is gonna stay right where it is. Like this, you're useless. No comms. No talking. You're gonna leave that knife where it is and run out here to get help if you wanna live, okay?"

Sentinel didn't nod. He didn't dare move the knife in his neck. Jazz took his silence as acceptance and swung himself off of the mech. He stood, taking a few steps away from the berth, glancing back over his shoulder at the Prime. 

"Well?" Jazz asked, "The longer you wait, the worse it's gonna be!" 

Sentinel shot up and disappeared out of his quarters. With him gone. Jazz took a vent, trying to relax. 

His servos shook, and he pressed them together in an attempt to calm himself. In an attempt to distract himself, he checked his chronometer for the time. 

Right on schedule. Perfect. 

Jazz didn't bother washing the energon off of his servos. He had work to do, and a prison bust to pull off. He took another moment to calm himself before he turned on his heel and walked out the door, heading for his next target. 

* * *

The stockades were not but a short drive from Metroplex. Jazz transformed as he arrived at the front gates. 

The attack on Sentinel would only buy him so much time. Jazz may have disabled his way of communicating but it would only be a matter of time until he was implicated. If not by Sentinel himself then by the security feed. He had to act quickly. 

Jazz made his way up to the main guard at the gate, a cover story already on the tip of his glossa. He held his back straight, and his visor held Stern. He leaned into the small window at the gate. 

"Jazz Minor," He said, pinging the guard with his identification, "If you'd open the gate please." 

The guard shook his helm, "I'm under strict orders to not let anyone in." 

Jazz smiled, "Decepticons on the border got everyone riled up around here? They're not even letting us Elite Guard in now?" 

The guard shook his helm. He looked down, tapping at the desk in front of him, "Yeah. Ultra Magnus' orders. Don't know why we're locked down here though. All the Decepticons prisoners are down in Trypticon. Don't know what the Decepticons would want with Autobots." 

Jazz shrugged in response, already honing in on his entrance. He put on his most charming grin, "I wouldn't worry too much, these little skirmishes on the border never last long. But I really do need to get in there. Magnus' orders. Been asked to come down by Nominus Prime himself."

The demeanour of the guard changed, as if. Jazz had become someone much more important in an instant. He turned around, shuffling to pick something up. 

"Oh! Oh, I didn't know you were here to see  _ him.  _ Please, excuse me, Come in. I'll have the guards get him up,"

The gate before him opened, and Jazz offered a wink to the guard as he strode in. There was a long walk down the entrance of the compound, and Jazz walked down it like he owned the place. It was funny, how if you pretended you were meant to be somewhere mechs often thought you did as well. 

A different mech was waiting for him when he arrived at the main doors. With a quick salute, the mech opened the door and held it for him as he entered. 

"I wasn't expecting anyone from Nominus' circle to be coming in today. Please excuse the state of the place," The mech waved around him as they turned down the first cell block. 

Jazz nodded, glancing around him at the first few inmates, "Not an issue at all. Just here to see a prisoner is all." 

"Oh, I know, it's really no big deal," The mech, whose identification pinged back as the warden spoke evenly, "Nominus Prime only comes around to see one mech. You must be here to see Prowl." 

Jazz kept his face neutral as his tanks rolled at the prospect. What did Nominus want with Prowl anyway? 

"Well yeah. Who else would I be here to see?" 

As they entered maximum security something in Jazz's field picked up something odd. He turned his helm, visor meeting a single opticed mech. He was larger than the average Autobot and almost a monochromatic blue. But what struck Jazz as off was the single yellow optic on his helm and the claws. 

"Hey there pretty Autobot," It leered at him, moving a claw to be on him closer, "You're new. I always liked white." 

"Whirl!" the warden snapped, "Not now." 

"You're no fun. Well if you want a good time, you know where to find me," Whirl said and shrugged. 

Jazz looked back to the warden as he continued to walk, "What the frag is he in for?" 

"They found him in a shed filled with dead mechs. No one knows if he killed them or just collected the parts," The warden shuddered, "He's dangerous." 

_He was perfect,_ Jazz made a mental note of which cell number he was in. 

By the time conversation died they made it to the back of the facility. They stopped in front of a metal door and the warden pulled out an identification card. Jazz watched him put it back into his subspace, eyeing exactly what compartment he slipped it into. The door swished aside easily, revealing a slightly larger circular room. 

Jazz stepped in first, visor stuck on the mass in the middle of it. A pair of optics flickered to life on it, but they were dull. Prowl's plating was dull as well; scratched and dented in too many places. He was slumped over on his side, kept in the awkward position by the chains. Jazz had to lock his joints to stop himself from running up and picking him up. 

"How much fuel has he been getting? He looks just about offline," Jazz said, taking more measured steps towards him. 

"Quarter rations, as Nominus Prime requested," The warden cleared his vocalizer, "... Why did Nominus send you, again?" 

Jazz stalked around Prowl, coming to stop back in front of him. The warden moved up as well, turning his back to Prowl in order to look Jazz in the visor. 

"Just gotta make sure he was secure is all," Jazz said, watching a shadow raise from the floor. 

"I'd like to ask you a few more questions if you'd-- HURK--" 

The warden crumpled to the floor with a loud crash, all bits of him clanging against other pieces. He crumpled, holding the back of his helm as his optics flickered down to nothingness. 

"How long ago did you break out of the chains," Jazz asked. 

Prowl stood, rubbing his wrists, "When you walked in. Processor over matter makes these kinds of things quite easy. Now would you--" 

Prowl staggered, holding his helm as he almost fell. Jazz reached out, holding him up by his forearms, his optics flickered again and Jazz started to suspect Prowl was more injured than he let on. 

"Prowler?!"

"Fine! I'm fine. Just a moment. I'm running on fumes here," Prowl admitted, "What's going on with Trypticon? What’s your plan to get out of here?" 

"If I'm being honest I'm sorta just making this up as I go--" 

"You're WHAT?!" Prowl snarled, bearing his dentae. 

"Look, look it's fine. I gotta plan to get outta here. Just need the warden’s ID card. We're gonna spring this place too," Jazz leaned down, servo slipping into the unconscious mechs subspace. He pulled out the card and held it up for Prowl, "And there's like, a fifty percent chance that Trypticon will handle itself." 

Prowl rolled his optics, staggering towards the door, "Fine. Fine! Don't have a plan! That's just perfect! At least tell me we've got a day to sort this all out." 

Jazz winced, "Ah well. Starscream should be breaking the atmosphere around now. So we have-- maybe five hours?" 

Prowl stopped dead in his tracks, "You're telling me we don't even have enough time to drive to Kaon? Where the escape is happening?!?" 

Jazz shrugged, "Something tells me Nominus isn't gonna have time to lock down the space bridges, trust me." 

Prowl dragged a servo down his face, "Fine. Fine. Let's just do this." 

Jazz and Prowl burst through his cell door together. Immediately the guards at the door turned around to face them, optics wide as they fumbled for their weapons. Much more prepared, Jazz and Prowl were behind them in an instant, weapons through the delicate components of their necks. 

Above them, blaster fire started. Prowl shot back into the safety of his cell, hiding from the gunfire as Jazz dashed forwards. Zipping across the cellblock as fast as he could, he made a by-line straight for Whirl, slamming the security card into the terminal beside his door. 

Their optics met again as the door slid aside. 

"Oh, I knew I was gonna like you," Whirl chimed. 

Moving past him, Whirl took the card from Jazz's servo and transformed, heading up to the upper level with the guards. There were a few more flashes and then the gunfire stopped. Somewhere, an alarm blared. 

"Get as many as you can out! We're gonna need big and loud!"Jazz called up. 

"Please! What do you think I was doing?!" Whirl called back. 

Jazz motioned to Prowl, and they set off again, heading straight for the Nexus. 

* * *

Nominus Prime burst into the medical bay sending several things flying as he continued on his warpath. The medical staff fluttered out of his path as he made his way down into the back of Metroplex's medical complex. 

He threw back the curtain to see two medics fussing over Sentinel, servos on his neck as they examined the dagger still lodged into his neck. They fussed over him, turning briefly to write things down. They didn't stop their work for Nominus' sake, and he had to clear his throat to have anyone actually acknowledge his existence. 

"What in Primus' name is going on here?!" 

The Medic's didn't stop working but one of them at least spoke while she worked, "He's been stabbed sir--" 

"Well, I can see that!" He snarled, "Who did it?!"

"He was stabbed in the voice box, sir," The medic continued, "He can't speak--" 

"Then someone gives him a Datapad, or are you all too incompetent to do  _ that much!?! _ " 

One of the Medic's shuffled a datapad into Sentinel's servos and he started tapping furiously. Nominus stood with his arms crossed, waiting for an answer to this whole mess. 

The curtain swooshed open once more and Zeta entered the room. Plating slicked down and Optics up in a worried frow. Nominus only spared him a glance before turning back to Sentinel Prime. 

"What is it?" He snapped. 

"Well, you see my Prime-- well we knew the Decepticons were up to something--" 

Nominus' attention was on him immediately, "Spit it out or so help me--" 

"Starscream has a full armada and he's broken through the barrier around Kaon, Sir!" Zeta spat, taking a step back. 

Nominus' lines set on fire and he snarled right into Zeta's face, "What do you mean?!? Why didn't the outer patrols warn us?!?" 

Zeta stammered through his response, "W-well. Well. You sent every available force to fight off the Decepticons on the outer ring--" 

"For frag’s sake, send whatever we have left to take down that ship! Immediately!" 

"W-well that's not all, see…" Zeta said. 

"HOW COULD THAT NOT BE ALL?!?" 

"There's been a breakout at the stockades! Prowl is missing!" Zeta managed, darting back out of the room before Nominus Prime could explode. 

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and before Nominus could blow up, his attention shot back to Sentinel. The mech was holding up the datapad he had been handed. His optics were bright, a ravenous fire behind them as he stared down Nominus. Nominus engine stalled as he read what the Prime wrote down. 

**I'M JUST THE DISTRACTION**

* * *

Blurr didn't like leaving Shockwave alone. Not for his own sake of course, but leaving a deaf and half-blind mech alone felt wrong. That, and there was always the chance that while he was climbing through the vents, the guards may come to take them for questioning and Blurr would be gone. 

They may even take out their frustrations on the war frame. And Blurr would probably feel bad about that.

Blurr slowly unbolted the grate down into another cell, careful to not lose any of the s screws. When he peeked his helm down through the grates, red optics were already staring up at him. When he blinked, they blinked back at him. 

"Hey, uh, Skywarp?" The mech said, "You haven't seen an Autobot running around in the vents have you?" 

From across the hall, another voice called back, "What the frag are you talking about TC? Is your Processor finally starting to rot?" 

The mech shook his helm, "Nah, didn't think you did. But say there was one?" 

"Probably blast it from here to New Kaon, just for the fun of it," Skywarp said. 

Blurr raised his servo to his lips, then held out his other servo to the mech. Thundercracker stood but still looked at him like he may shoot him at any moment. He approached slowly, eventually holding out a digit for Blurr to shake in a weird handshake. 

"You must be Thundercracker," He whispered. 

"Actually, I think I'm just going crazy," Thundercracker said skeptically. 

Blurr smiled at him, pulling his servo back to perch it back on the edge of the vent, stopping it from cutting into his abdomen. He motioned down to Thundercracker’s neck and he raised a servo to his outlier collar. 

"You know, I find it really funny that they threw Shockwave in a prison he designed most of the technology for," Blurr chirped, letting his glitch run wild, "And the mech is a genius, just don't tell him I said that. He's got a thing for me, see, but I can't let him know I don't hate him. He's been an aft and I really don't think he's apologized enough yet. ANYWAYS, the point is, the mech always thinks ahead. If I may--" 

Blurr lowered himself a little more, stretching to get his servos on Thundercracker's neck. He shifted the thing around, fighting with the collar to access the back panel. Blurr popped it open with a digit and then rummaged around, finding the yellow wire that Shockwave had told him about. With no hesitation, he broke the thing and the collar immediately deactivated. 

Blurr watched it fall to the ground, while Thundercracker stared up at him in disbelief. 

"Hey, Skywarp!" Thundercracker called over his shoulder, "Just a heads up, the Autobot in the vents is real and I'm not crazy." 

There was shuffling across the hall, "... Thunders what kind of hallucinations are you having?" 

Blurr offered Thundercracker a small data packet, outlining the plan. He could read it later, Blurr had quite a few more stops to make before getting back to Shockwave. 

He waved back down at Thundercracker and then shuffled back into the vent, closing it behind him. 

Skywarp was next. 

. 

. 

. 

"HOLY PRIMUS, VOLT SHIT WHO THE UNICRON WORSHIPING ORGANIC ARE YOU?!" Skywarp screamed as a face appeared out of his vent. 

* * *

Blurr crawled back into his own cell, making his way directly to the mech curled up on the berth. He was careful to announce his presence with a soft touch to Shockwave's back. Even as Shockwave startled, Blurr kept his field calm, connector already being offered. 

Shockwave was never gentle when he first entered Blurs systems. He ripped through to get to the audial and visual feeds he needed like a desperate mech, and Blurr supposed that's exactly what he was. It took a few moments more to integrate and for Shockwave to settle back down enough to actually speak. It was always disorienting to have Shockwave take over part of his frame, but it was necessary at least for now. 

"Everyone is ready," Blurr said softly, climbing his way onto the berth, "Minimus is even on board. He and Brainstorm are working now." 

Shockwave scooted over slightly, giving Blurr just enough space to curl up against his back. They only had a few moments to rest before the wheels set in motion. Blurr was going to take every click he could get. 

"Are you ready?" Shockwave asked. 

"Ready to what? Betray my faction? Or possibly be thrown into another brig by your lord and master?" Blurr rolled his optics. 

"I have Megatron's favour. It is unlikely you will be tortured," 

"But I'll still be a prisoner." 

Shockwave shifted around in the berth, rolling around to face Blurr. Staring down Shockwave's broken optic Blurr swallowed down his nerves. A single claw ran down his back as Shockwave tried to soothe him.

"You may be. But is this any better?" Shockwave asked.

Blurr shrugged, “Just don’t make me regret this.” 

“You will not.”

**VOMP!**

“Rise and shine!” Skywarp chirped, appearing suddenly. He did a small twirl as he appeared, obviously in a good mood, “We are a go for lift off!”

Blurr shot up to stand beside the berth, face flush. Shockwave rose slowly, adjusting to Blurs visual and auditory input. They both watched Skywarp from the same optics as Shockwave got his frame sat up, feeling around to make sure he didn't hit anything. 

"Well then, no one said you were in this kinda condition, commander," Skywarp motioned to them both, still hooked together. 

Blurr almost shot back with an insult with his own, But Shockwave stopped him through their connection. He insisted there was no need; Skywarp just needled everyone, he hadn't meant anything by it. Still, Blurr felt protective of him. Whether that was his own feelings, or a bleed through over the connection, he didn't know. 

Shockwave picked Blurr up, swinging the speedster up onto his shoulders. Blurr settled as the Decepticons continued to bicker. Coiling the cord neatly, he made sure it wouldn't get snagged as they moved. 

"My condition was of no concern to you. I assure you it will not inhibit my capabilities," Shockwave said, perfectly monotone. 

"Yeah, But only cuz you got that nifty, seeing-eye-Autobot," Skywarp teased. 

"Blurr," He corrected, holding a servo out, "The designation is Blurr and if appreciate it if you used it." 

"A seeing-eye- Blurr then," Skywarp smirked, "Let's get out of here yeah? I'm Fragging sick of this place and all the--" 

The lights around them suddenly turned red. Blurr’s optics immediately turned too look out at the hall, where the ominous glow emanated from overhead lights. The Decepticons in the cells around them started to stir, confusion rousing them to their pedes. There was no signs of guards showing up yet, but he knew better than to thing they wouldn't be here soon. 

"Well. That must be the rescue team," Skywarp smiled and turned to the two of them, "Time to see the surface again." 

Skywarp grabbed Shockwave's arm, and without warning, the world turned purple briefly. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared it was gone, and they were stood in the hallway. 

"Get to the security center," Shockwave ordered to Skywarp, "Hit the emergency release, then have Thundercracker lead everyone to the surface." 

Skywarp's wings flicked indignantly but he was already stepping towards the exit, "What? Are you leaving me with all the work?" 

"No. We just have some personal business to attend to. We will see you on the surface. Stall Starscream until we can arrive." 

"No. We just have some personal business to attend to. We will see you on the surface. Stall Starscream until we can arrive." 

Blurr and Shockwave spoke at the same time, the words flowing through their connection. 

Skywarp stared at them for a moment, his face scrunched up in disgust, "If you two ever do that again, I'm getting Screamer to shoot you out of the airlock."

**VOMP!**

The warframe turned, sharpening his claws on each other as they descended deeper into the bowls of Trypticon. They walked in silence, optics from other cells staring at them from the darkness. As the red light blinked, they seemed to move frame by frame; in one place when the lights were flicked off and then a few steps forwards when it came back on. Blurr could only imagine what they looked like; a towering mech with three optics, claws so sharp they could rip through a mech in one swipe and long limbs that came out of awkward parts of their body. Connected by only a single wire, he felt more like a terrifying thing that shouldn't exist but did anyway. 

Amusement tingled along the line connecting the two of them, and Blurr rolled his optics at the warframe he was riding. 

"Is this what you felt like all the time? A horror so accustomed to the dark that his form meant little to him anymore?" He asked softly. 

"Often," Shockwave whispered back, "Being Longarm Prime was a great reprieve from it though. Normalcy was nice after so long. It and everything else that came along with the persona was like living in a dream of the past." 

"Except when you were using me to sell out the Autobots to Megatron," Blurr sighed, "Which was rude by the way. You're never getting back under my panels again." 

"I will," Shockwave said, then explained when Blurr seemed to stiffen, "Ah. Not there. For your repairs. I said I would fix you, did I not?" 

They turned another corner and were met with a very familiar door. Blurr took a steadying vent and nodded. Shockwave had said that. Somehow the thought of being unconscious while the scientist modified his frame didn't scare him as much as it probably should have. It was, oddly, in a way Blurr really didn't want to admit, comforting. 

Shockwave, smug as always, reached for the door’s access panel right as there was a scream from behind the door. 

Shockwave burst through the door and They found who they were looking for. 

Crackcase obviously didn't see the alarm going off. In the tucked-away room, the lighting was still normal and there was no siren going off. He was stood over a mech Blurr didn't recognize, optics wide, and posture stiff. He stared up at them, Backlit by the ominous red light, they probably looked terrifying. 

The mech under him wasn't in good condition either. He was sat in a puddle of a clear liquid; not lubricant nor energon. But one of his optics had been melted out, the clear liquid leaking from the wound down his cheek. The corrosion was continuing too, and the mech let out another pained screen, unsure of the mass at the door was there to see him or not. 

The mech would have to wait. 

"Shockey…?" Crankcase gasped. 

Shockwave stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him. Blurr could feel and shared his bloodlust.

Very suddenly, armed with the context of the war, he could see why the Decepticons did what they did. 

"Crackcase," Shockwave said, without a hint of emotion to his voice, "I believe you took some things of ours." 

"And now we're going to take something of yours," Blurr tagged on. 

Shockwave lurched forwards, claws wrapping around the smaller mech and lifting him up off the floor. He struggled, but no amount of fight was going to overwhelm the war machine they had become. Crack case stared into Blurr's optics, and the two of them stared back. 

"Help!" he screamed out the door. But a quick look behind them revealed only a rush of escaping Decepticons. The guards were likely overwhelmed by just Thundercracker and Skywarp alone. 

Shockwave slammed him down on the floor, a little too close to the restrained seeker. His shoulder landed in the puddle of clear fluid, and immediately it began eating away at his shoulder. This time, it was he who screamed. 

"Blurr, if you would please help Acid Storm up, please. Be careful. He seems to be leaking his own corrosive," Shockwave asked, already reaching for Crack case's helm. 

Blurr hopped down, making sure to keep their connection stable. Avoiding the acid puddle, he unbound the mech as Shockwave worked on the interrogator. The mech shot up, nodded wordlessly and rushed out of the room to join in the escaping Decepticons. 

Crack case struggled as the ex-spy watched Shockwave remove the top of his helm, exposing the delicate circuitry below. Soft paths of light travelled back and forth as his Processor computed. Pulling out another roll of cables, he plugged into the mech. 

"I thought we came here to kill him. Not… Hack his processor," Blurr commented, adjusting his angle to give the Decepticon a better look at what he was doing. 

"I will not return to Lord Megatron empty-handed," Shockwave hummed, more preoccupied with his work, "It will soften the blow of your appearance." 

Blurr stepped on Crack case's servo, and the mech groaned. With Shockwave in his processor, Crackcase was slowly shutting down as Shockwave ripped more and more data from him. With more delicate tools, they could copy the information. But Shockwave wasn't feeling generous, and all he had to was retrieve the data. There was no reason to keep the mech alive. 

"And the revenge part?" Blurr asked. 

"Do as you please," Shockwave quirked his helm, "Just don't damage him too much until I am finished. Start with his limbs and work your way in." 

The small mech shrugged and got to work. 

After all, the real reason they had come to Crackcase was to make them both feel better. 

* * *

They had successfully landed on Cybertron’s surface, but that didn't mean it was over just yet. 

Bee stood in the open bay behind the line of Decepticons defending it. Trypticon hadn’t erupted yet, but they were approaching the designated time. Bee peeked out from behind Starscream’s legs, watching out for any sign of Jazz and Prowl. 

Bumblebee couldn’t help his excitement. The idea of being reunited again made him almost giddy, despite the gunfire over his helm. Safe behind the seeker, his optics looked past the pitiful defences of the Autobots and out over the roadways, waiting patiently. 

Landing in the closest spaceport to Trypticon, they were situated upon one of the docks. He could look over the rusted structures to see The peek of Trypticon’s structures, but also down at the roadways; looking for both Jazz, Prowl and Blurr all at once. 

Above him, Starscream’s posture changed as he looked up. Blurr followed his gaze upwards, where two seekers were flying in at speeds that should have been alarming. But, Bumblebee recognized them from the invasion of Cybertron. 

He smacked Starscream's outer thigh and yelled over his nullrays, “Incoming love bird!”

Over them, the two seekers swung low, leaving trails of ozone just above them. Something in the minibots spark soared with them, even if it wasn't for himself. As they routed around, Bee saw the swarm emerging from Trypticon itself. 

They were almost home free. 

The Blue and Purple seekers landed just in front of them, transforming mid-air and landing on their pedes. Immediately they slid behind the defensive line around the bay, and into safety. Starscream didn’t turn to greet them, instead advancing on the Autobot lines, spurred on by the arrival of his trine mates. 

“Hey!” Bee waved over at them, “Medbay is this way!”

Skywarp looked down at him, obviously confused at his appearance. But neither lashed out at him, so he took it as a sign to continue. 

“The medic is already set up to bring your weapons back online. We’re sitting ducks here and we need to hold the line until everyone shows up,” Bee pointed to the back of the ship, “The second hall on the right, then a direct left.”

“Fragging Autobots everywhere,” Thundercracker scoffed but moved towards the Medical bay. 

Skywarp shrugged and followed behind him, “Star’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

Bee acted as a mediary as mechs continued to trickle in. Hustling in those who needed repairs and those who needed simple work alike, soon, their numbers were bolstered by waves. It wasn’t long until they had overwhelmed the Autobots entirely, and were waiting for the last of the prisoners to file in. 

“Medbay is this way!” Bee chirped, already coming ahead to the medic. Two seekers carried a third, his optic seemingly melted out. He didn’t ask where the injury was from but knew it couldn’t have been pleasant. 

“We’re the last of them,” Someone said from the door, and the minibot’s helm shot towards it. 

His spark just about skipped a spin as he raced towards the arriving mechs. 

“Blurr!” Bee chirped, throwing his arms upwards. 

Atop Shockwave’s shoulders, Blurr looked like he had been through hell, but more or less intact. Streaked in dried energon, the two of them had obviously walked the entire way, strung together by a wire that Bumblebee didn’t know the purpose of. 

Blurr seemed surprised by his presence, “Another Autobot? A defector…?”

Shockwave didn’t look at him, and his posture stayed stiff and rigid, Yet, he walked towards Bumblebee instead of the medical bay. 

“It’s complicated,” Bumblebee explained, “Lots has happened! But if you’d come this way--”

“Megatron is officially accepting Autobot defectors?” Shockwave asked, leaning down towards him. 

Bee leaned back, both of the mechs making him feel more than a little uncomfortable, “Ah-- Um-- It’s a little more complicated than that--”

“Explain,” The both of them said at once. 

The yellow mech flared his plating, “Megatron needs Optimus’ help. And we get to hang around, i guess? They have a-- thing. I guess”

Both of them straightened out, a silent conversation going on between them. Then, silently they moved towards the Medical bay, disappearing ingot the hallway. 

Servo on his hip, Starscream approached and snorted, “What the frag is up with those two?”

“No clue,” Bee shivered, “Total creeps though.”

Starscream shrugged, “Shockwave has always been like that. Can't say anything about the Autobot though.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

“The command deck? I already ordered the engines to start--”

Bumblebee held up a servo, “Okay. Two things. One, I meant in the medical bay with your Trine, idiot. And two, we’re not done here yet. We can’t take off just yet.”

"You heard Shockwave--" 

Bumblebee crossed his arms, "Do you really wanna tell Prime that you decided to leave without Jazz and Prowl?" 

Starscream crossed his arms and let out an angry huff of his engine, "Look. I already said I was gonna murder Megatron when I got back. I'm already on their shit list." 

Bumblebee walked back over to the open bay door, looking down over the edge down to the open roads. Empty. He knew the Autobots wouldn’t have a lot of defences, but he was starting to worry Jazz and Prowl had gotten caught up in something else. Worrying his lip, He looked back to Starscream.

Sighing, Starscream looked away from him, “They have ten clicks. Or until the engines warm up.” 

Bee swallowed and nodded as Starscream exited the bay. He wasn't alone for long though. 

Still sat in the open door, another seeker swayed into the room, sporting a very familiar frame sauntered into the room. He did a double-take, before settling his gaze back out of the bay. 

“Let me guess, Starscream sent you?” Bumblebee asked. 

Blitzwing crossed his arms and leaned on the frame of the bay, “He thinks if those two don’t show up, you’ll jump out at the last second. I told him to let you go.”

“But you still came to stop me.”

_ Click.Whirr.  _ Blitzwing just huffed and looked away. Face red in his angry persona as he too looked out into the dilapidated state of Kaon. 

Bumblebee coughed, “So are we going to talk about what happened? In the atmosphere?”

“No!” The war machine hissed. 

Bumblebee shrugged. 

_ Click.Whirr.  _ Random giggled loudly, “Oh! Oh! I know, let’s play 20 questions!”

Bumblebee shrugged again, not taking his gaze off the roads. They had to be here soon--

_ Click.Whirr. _ “Tell me why. Why did we bond?”

Bumblebee bit down on his lip. This was the logical fallout of what had happened between them. Blitzwing deserved answers. He knew that. But it all still felt so raw. This was supposed to be between him and his Conjunx, not… Not with a random mech he felt he barely knew. 

But Blitzwing deserved answers. 

"Ah. Well. Megatron was going to kill me," Bumblebee tried to keep his tone stoic, "You thought bonding would save me." 

Blitzwing’s icy faceplates came to meet his own. His monocle zoomed in and out, a motion Bee had already come to associate with his nerves. Huffing out a vent, Blitzwing asked his next question, “Did it work?”

Taking his optics off the road for a minute, Bee met his gaze, “Nope!”

_ Click.Whirr.  _ “ **What!?** ”

“Oh yeah,” Bumblebee shrugged, “Optimus took Megatron down for a good half a day; just enough time for you to defect to our side and get out of--”

A glint of something white caught his attention. 

“Hold that thought,” Bumblebee chirped, running down the ramp. Having to jump down the last few inches as the ship prepared to exit orbit. Up on the docking platform, he waves down at the road, hoping that it’s Jazz he’s seeing. As they draw closer, his arms lower slowly.

In alt-mode, Jazz is definitely pushing his engine to its limit despite not moving at top speeds. A makeshift tow line had been fastened to his bumper and the other end tugged along a motorcycle. Bumblebee hit the ground, wheels already spinning as he transformed and spun down the loading ramp. 

He skidded around the turn, bolting down towards the two mechs. He couldn’t hear if Blitzwing was following him over the engines of the large spaceship taking off behind them. He skidded to a stop in front of them both and transformed.

Jazz transformed as well, arms flying out to catch Prowl as he reverted to root mode and collapsed.

“What happened?” Bee asked. Immediately he went to Prowl’s side, and slide under his arm to help carry him. 

“Nominus was starving him,” Jazz explained, "He didn't have enough fuel for the trip." 

Prowl's visor flickered, but his pedes dragged as they brought him up the ramp. With Jazz's help they were moving quickly, but not quite fast enough. 

Above them, the ship was several feet off the ground now. They would make it. But it would be close. 

"Blitzwing!" Bee yelled up at the dock and glared at the mech who peeked out over the edge. 

The triple hanger hopped down off the edge of the ship, immediately moving to pick Prowl up. With a snort, he engaged his thrusters and hopped back up with the injured mech in his arms. 

It took a few shuffling attempts but eventually, he and Jazz got themselves up onto the ship, shutting the bay door behind them. 

* * *

Prowl would be fine with a few days in the medical bay and some enriched medical-grade energon. Jazz found that immediately comforting. He'd be back up and running within a few days at most; could even be back walking by tomorrow if his frame took the fuel well. 

Blurr was an entirely different story. 

Laid in a berth beside Shockwave and still connected by a data cord, both of them were in rough shape. But, well enough to explain what had been going on. 

"That… Wow," Blurr said softly, avoiding their gaze, "That's a lot to take in." 

"It explains most of everything," Shockwave added, "When we are both repaired we will speak with Megatron and Optimus directly." 

Perched on a medical instrument table. Bumblebee frowned, "Could be a while. Crankcase got to more than just you guys. We don't have the parts we need for everyone." 

From the booth beside them, Prowl's voice came out horse and tired, "Hm. Since when are you so close to the Decepticons?" 

Bee shrugged, "A lot has happened in the months you've been gone. At some point, everyone has just gotta realize that this is the new normal." 

And the new normal it was. After the events of the last cycle, it was no wonder the lot of them fell asleep crowded between Blurr and Prowl's medical docks. Jazz found himself curled up against Prowl's legs. The medical berth was made for warframes, and so fitted the two of them easily. Still, Jazz relaxed with the idea he could lay in a berth with someone and nothing was expected of him. 

Prowl had never made a move to interface with him ever. And there was something nice about that. 

Thankfully, Jazz didn't dream. Paranoid that stabbing Sentinel would come back to haunt him, exhaustion seemed to be his saviour. Jazz slept deep and dreamless. 

. 

. 

. 

"-ake up!" 

Something shook Jazz's shoulder hard, and he jolted away to wide blue optics looming over him. Bee put a digit to his lips, signalling Jazz to stay silent. He sat up in berth, looking around them to try and parse why he had been woken up. 

With no immediate sign of danger, Jazz glared at the yellow mech. 

Bumblebee just tapped his audial. 

Turning up the sensitivity of his audials, Jazz could make out something from the hallway just outside of the medical bay. 

"-is dead. Dead. Understand? So just do what Starscream wants." 

"I know. I know. Just feels wrong. You know. They pulled us out of Trypticon. Doesn't feel right."

"You don't even know what Starscream wants them for. He could just be breaking the news to them--"

"Starscream? He only cares about Vosian seekers. Do you think he's really going to take pity on a bunch of grounder Autobots? Optimus and Megatron are dead! He's probably not going to shove them out the airlock."

Jazz shot up, processor racing. Immediately he turned to Bee and then turned to Prowl laying in the berth. 

They needed to leave. Without Optimus getting Megatron to protect them, the Decepticons would turn on them. No matter what they had done for them, they were still Autobots on their optics; still the enemy. 

Jazz shifted up the berth as Bumblebee moved to wake up Blurr. He grabbed Prowl's shoulders, shaking him lightly as well. His optics flickered online, but the way that they only lot up halfway didn't bode well for his condition. As he booted up, Jazz took a look around for any medical grade they could take with them. 

"I can't--" he heard Blurr whisper beyond the curtain separating them, "no. No you don't get it. He's blind and deaf, I can't just leave him like this." 

Shoving two medical-grade cubes into his subspace, Jazz moved to get under Prowl's arm once again. They wouldn't be quick like this, but he couldn't leave him behind to face Starscream's judgement. 

Getting Prowl sat up and subsequently on his pedes took time, time that Blurr and Bumblebee spent arguing on whether they could leave Shockwave alone. If they didn't make up their mind soon, they were going to get caught up with the two seekers in the hallway. 

Jazz moved Prowl forwards a few steps, pulling back the curtain between them. 

"Blurr," Jazz half hissed, half-whispered, "Just take him with us for Primus' sake. Megatron is dead too and I doubt he's going to start grovelling at Starscream's pedes anytime soon." 

They got Shockwave up as well, still feeding off of Blurr’s senses. He could tell the two were still. Confused over the politics of the situation, but the threat of a power-hungry Starscream was a motivator. 

The doors to the medical bay opened, and all five of them stilled. Two sets of pedes stepped in, and Jazz held his vents as they drew closer. As the curtain pulled back, revealing all five of them in various states of movement. Patients out of their berths, and Jazz and Bumblebee trying to shuffle them out the door. 

It was Starscream himself that stood front and center. Flanked by his trine, Skywarp on one side and Thundercracker on his other, There was no way out. Not with Prowl, Blurr and Shockwave in the condition that they were. 

Starscream's frown seeped at the sight of them, "And where exactly are you all going?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for not answering comments. My country has locked down again and I'm struggling a lot mentally with it this time. Just know that seeing people enjoy my work does really help. 
> 
> And yes, this is finally the end of all the bad stuff, and we're gonna be betting more happy from here on out


	13. Six Feet Down The Trail The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream and Optimus deal with the fallout of the last 3 chapters' events, It goes a lot better than expected actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! so I know I said I wouldn't post this month, but writing some silly scenes really helped me out. And waoh! A happy chapter! with Drunk Autobots and Soft Starscream!?! whhhaaaaat.   
> OMTOP?!? happy again!? whats wrong with me?
> 
> Notes;   
> Tesauras is spelt wrong the whole chapter. I'm not fixing it.

“Well,” Starscream balked, “You can’t just remove patients in critical condition like that!”

Bumblebee stayed stiff between Shockwave and Blurr, not daring to move and face the Trine’s furry. He glanced back towards Jazz and Prowl, the latter’s optics still flickering dangerously. There was no way out of this. Bumblebee had to think fast. 

Casually, he stepped forwards trying to put himself between Starscream and the rest of them without alarming the seeker or his trine. He didn’t know what he was doing, just that he had to do something. 

“Look, Starscream--”

“No,” Starscream snapped, interrupting him, “No. No, you listen. I have been gracious to invite you to this conversation but I will dictate it.”

Bumblebee shut his mouth.

“Megatron and Optimus Prime have fallen. And where that normally would mean I would lead the Decepticons, there has been an issue. Megazarak has returned.”

All three seekers stiffened at the very mention of his name. And though Bumblebee wanted to think Starscream wouldn't turn on them in a fit of rage, it was no guarantee. He liked to think they were friends, but the seeker only barely seemed inclined to show it sometimes. His plating stood on end as he tried to figure out where Starscream was going with this. 

"We heard," Prowl said barely above a whisper. 

Bumblebee's spark whirled in his chest. After all this… The reality of the situation had yet to set in. Optimus was dead. Megatron was dead. 

Where did they go now?

Starscream looked between all of them, and something in his rough demeanour softened. He crossed his arms and turned his helm away as he chose his next words a little more carefully. Whether it was pity or genuine fondness, the Autobots may never know, but they hoped for the latter. 

"If there is somewhere safe for you all to go, now would be the time to go and get out before this becomes more of a mess," He said. 

Taking it as the mercy and invitation it was, Jazz looked the seeker directly in the optics though his vocalizer warbled, "Starscream. There's nowhere left for any of us. The Autobots will send us to the stockades, and the Decepticons will probably kill us." 

"Please. Starscream," Bumblebee added. 

The seeker looked taken aback or a moment, optics widening and blinking a few times as if he didn't believe what he had just heard. Looking briefly to his trine for support, Skywarp nudged his side softly, motioning forwards. 

Starscream rolled his optics and scoffed flippantly, "Well! How in Primus' name are you supposed to come to my bonding if you're dead!"

"Wait!" Skywarp yelled, "You're getting conjunxed!?" 

The air commander looked at his trine mate, servo clutching his cockpit in offence, "Yes! To you! Fragging idiot!" 

Beside them, Thundercracker rolled his optics and put his helm in his servo, "Was that supposed to be your proposal?" 

The rest of them sat silently as the three seekers bickered. Jazz shuffled Prowl back to a berth, letting him sit down as Colour returned to his faceplates. Shockwave and Blurr watched on in interest, trying to keep track of the situation. 

"Well, everything has gone to slag these last few hours!" Starscream said, vocalizer cracking softly, "I haven't had time to think about it!" 

"You only had a couple of millions of years!" 

"New sparks, can you all play nice until we know what we're doing?" Shockwave finally spoke up, "Megazarak will be waiting for our arrival in a month. We must know what our plan is." 

The moment of panic gone, a hard rock settled in Bumblebee's spark. Optimus was dead. It didn't even feel real. Wasn't… Wasn't the time loop supposed to restart? 

"We need to find refuge. I will not serve Megazarak ever again," Thundercracker added pragmatically. 

“The one thing you need to know about Megazarak and Nova Prime is that they’re the same mech when it comes down to it. Yes, now they may be fighting for the unification of the species, but the  _ how _ is where it all gets fragged up.”

“Well, we know what will happen if Nominus gets a hold of the Matrix,” Bumblebee scowled, “Something about giant war machines that run off of mech’s spark energy and the extermination of the Decepticons. But the two of them seem… okay. Right?”

“Figures. Typical Autobots, uneducated in historical events that have ramifications to this day,” Thundercracker scoffed. 

“Not out fault,” Jazz snarled, “Our histories were rewritten before we were even  _ made. _ ”

“Mechs, Mechs,” Starscream hissed, “Play nice or I’m taking everyone’s toys away. Megazarak and Nova are a nightmare. They have no consideration for anyone but themselves and the phase sixers. Any mech that is not a hundred percent loyal to them, will be thrown to the pit. Any Decepticon that was around before Megatron took over, knows exactly what I’m talking about.”

“And Nova himself isn’t better. He lead the most corrupt council the planet has ever seen,” Skywarp motioned vaguely to the air beside him, “And I doubt he’s changed his ways in the four million years they’ve been alone in deep space.”

“So they’re nuts?” Bee asked. 

“Oh totally. And now they’re in control of the bulk of the Decepticon forces.” Starscream uncrossed and then recrossed his legs in the opposite direction, “So we have a decision to make. Go back and swear our undying loyalty to two crazy mechs and probably die horrible deaths in battle, or defect, try and fight them and then slowly starve because we have absolutely no access to money or fuel.”

Prowl wheezed, “Not… not quite.”

“And what exactly do you propose?” Shockwave piped up.

“Earth has fuel.”

Bumblebee stepped in, “Yeah! Sure! Maybe not enough to supply war, but maybe enough for a few battles!”

Shockwave shook his helm, "Going to earth requires both Autobot and Decepticon territory. It will be virtually impossible to avoid all patrols from both sides." 

Silence fell over them for a moment. Bumblebee pushed away from the heavy blanket of grief on his spark and instead tried to think of a solution. Grieving could wait. Survival could not. Bee looked between them all, trying to think up a solution to the problem. 

"Actually," Prowl spoke up, "It may be possible." 

Starscream snorted, "As your escape plan did? You almost died from the lack of fuel--"

Prowl held up a servo, silencing a very agitated seeker, "We've got two, basically three outliers, a mad scientist, a load bearer and more than several elite front line warriors. That's infinitely more than I had to work with on Cybertron. Give me a week and I'll have a more solid plan." 

* * *

Their landing gear made touch with the pavement of a highway in Detroit. Optimus hadn’t been specific about a landing place and allowed Cyclonus to pilot them to an open area large enough for them to land safely. He didn’t wait, the urge to act had been knowing at him for a month and now, finally, on earth, he had the resources to finally act on that impulse. 

He, Bulkhead and Cyclonus were already at the bay doors as they opened, revealing Captain Fanzone, the rest of the Detroit swat team and Blackarachnia. The looked hostile only for a brief moment, and then confusion took over. Optics loosening from her scowl, the technogenic stepped forwards.

They exited their ship just as the questions started. 

“You’re dead,” Blackaracnia accused, “Strika sent out the declaration a month ago. Where the frag have you been!?”

“Ignoring everyone’s calls and trying to get here before Megazarak’s personal hit squad found us,” The Prime answered blankly. 

As his pedes touched the asphalt, his processor was already trying to plan out how exactly to pull this off without destroying the city for the hundredth time. Idly, his optics looked towards Lake Erie, and his thoughts floated over its surface to what he had buried beneath it. 

“And Megatron?” She asked. 

Cyclonus lowered his helm out of respect for the dead, “Actually dead. That was not false.”

The femme scowled, putting her face into hr servo and rolling her optics, “Oh Primus. We’re doomed.”

“No,” Optimus said evenly, “I’m doomed. Everything else is going to be just fine.”

Bulkhead dragged the Allspark off of the ship, letting it sit in between all of them. Optimus motioned to it blankly, not prepared to explain every part of the plan. Instead, he let the presence of the Allspark speak for itself. 

All four of her optics focused in on the artifact before looking back to Optimus, “You… brought a giant Lazer. Yeah, like that’s going to fix this political cluster-fuck. Do you know the Damage Megazarak, Nova and Nominus have been creating while you were gone?”

Optimus shrugged. 

“We’ve been ignoring hails,” Cyclonus explained. 

Blackaracnia’s entire plating bristled, her optics flaring red, “The whole fucking war went off the deep end. Just… tell me you have a way to fix this.”

“We need a chamber that can contain molten hot splinters of spark crystals,” Optimus motioned down to the Allspark again, “Then I’m going to piss off God. Again.”

The femme stepped forwards, jabbing a digit against Optimus’ chest plates, vents hissing in warning, “I don’t care how just fragging fix your mistakes for once.”

With that, she turned on this tip of his pede, motioning for a confused Sari to follow along behind her. When Optimus didn’t move immediately, she called over her shoulder, “Well?! Are you coming!?”

Cyclonus leaned over, whispering to Optimus, “Where… where is she going?”

Flipping around, optics burning brightly, “Well someone needs to build you a containment chamber! Let’s go mechs! Before Nova figures us out!”

* * *

Bumblebee peeked around the corner of the dining hall, watching the entire crew shuffle around each other. The Decepticons gathered here sometime during the third shift, not telling any of the smaller mechs. They shuffled around each other, making motions between them that Bumblebee didn't understand. Brainstorm was walking around handing out a bright liquid to every mech he passed. The way they spoke didn't make Bumblebee believe they were planning anything, but the fact they weren't invited seemed odd. 

Starscream stood at the front of the room, his trine standing at his back. Their wings were swooped low, as were any other seekers in the room. The other warframes kept an unusual distance from each other, not daring to push and jest with each other as they usually did. Even Deadlock stood at the back of the room in his newly formatted form, sipping energon quietly by himself. 

He knew some of the warframes had seen him, but not any that knew him personally. They mostly just eyed him suspiciously and then turned away, not wanting to interrupt the tone of the room. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Bumblebee whirled around, looking up at a Medic escorting Blurr and Shockwave into the dining hall. He raised an optic at Blurr who just shrugged, apparently just as confused as he was. 

"Um…I… everyone was--" 

Shockwave raised a servo, "I don't think they should be excluded. They lost a mech dear to them as well. Optimus was well-liked among their group. Let them grieve." 

The medic shrugged, motioning for him to follow them into the room. Immediately he sent a ping to Jazz and Prowl to join them. He didn't know what was going on, but he had a suspicion. 

As they entered, a few mechs narrowed their gazes but didn't say much. One of them, a seeker with his wings lowered awkwardly, places a claw on Shockwave's shoulder as he passed. 

"I'm sorry. I heard you two had grown close," He mumbled. 

Shockwave bowed his helm in return, "He was my one confidant on Cybertron. Though it is odd to grieve a mech twice, no?" 

The seeker smiled softly, only the edges of his lips rising, "Odd would be the most polite word for it. " 

Bumblebee swallowed, looking around the bulk of Shockwave to Blurr. 

_ This was a funeral.  _

Bumblebee shrunk against Shockwave's side, trying to blend in while they progressed through the room. He kept his optics sharp, noticing a small vial some mechs had on their possession. Looking to the warframe beside him, Shockwave carried one as well, carefully clutched in his claws as to not shatter it. As they moved towards the front of the room and closer to the Elite Trine, he could see them holding one each as well. 

"Starscream," Shockwave said, bowing his helm, "I'm glad I made it before the engex kicked in." 

"Yes, well. There are formalities to be had before it breaks into complete chaos," Starscream stated, holding the small vial up, "It feels weird right? Offering the same vial twice." 

"Yes, sadly," Shockwave paused, "I thought you may be happy." 

Starscream's jaw clenched, and he looked away from the scientist, "I would have been happy if I had taken command of the Decepticons."

Shockwave only nodded in response. 

Blurr blinked up at Shockwave, examining the small vial in his servos. Bumblebee did the same, trying to parse out what one might be doing with vials of their innermost energon. Before he could ask, Shockwave looked at them both, likely reading Blurs processor and decided to explain. 

"It is traditional to offer one's innermost energon to a fallen comrade. Megatron was well-liked by a lot of mechs." 

Bumblebee swallowed around a tight lump forming in his throat, "Bucket head was okay when he wasn't… You know, trying to kill us."

"He had that effect on a lot of mechs," Skywarp rumbled, "And your leader? The Prime?" 

Bumblebee shifted awkwardly on his pedes, staring down at them intently, "I think I'm being too optimistic." 

"Pardon?"

"I mean. Doesn't this feel weird to anyone else? I mean. I've literally time travelled, faced down the Autobots and this is how it all ends? Does anyone else actually believe that after all of this Primus is going to just let Optimus die out on the reaches of space?" He asked softly, "The announcement was made by the Decepticons right? And we're going to believe them? It's not like anyone has seen any bodies either."

"If Megatron is alive, then he would be fighting for his throne, "Starscream immediately dismissed, sneering at the much smaller mech.

"I'm not saying no one died," Bumblebee mumbled under his breath, "Just that this isn't sitting right." 

"How it sits with you, is none of our concern--" 

This time, it was Shockwave who cut off the air commander, "Logically speaking, Bumblebee may be correct." 

His attention shot up to the mono-opticed mech. Surprised by Shockwave's agreement, the smaller mech waited for him to continue. 

"Had Nova and Megazarak killed both leaders, then they logically would assume we would come directly to them. Yet, they haven't even attempted to make contact," Shockwave hummed, looking up to the ceiling as if pondering something for a moment, "But, if they were unsure of their position it is possible that they may assume we are in contact with the surviving party and are waiting for our return before making a move." 

Starscream hissed, "You can't be serious!" 

A mech darted between them suddenly, cutting off their conversation. Teal wings covered Bumblebee's vision, and soon a cube of colourful energon was pressed into his servos.

"'Storm! You're actually a miracle worker," Skywarp cheered, grabbing his own cube and taking a quick swig of it, "Where'd you find the materials for engex?!" 

"Told you I could make a distillery out of scrap metal," Brainstorm boasted, grabbing the cube back from Shockwave, "Hey! No high grade for mechs in recovery!" 

Shockwave couldn't frown, but his field fanned out in Ill concealed agitation. He placed the cube he had reached for back on the tray that Brainstorm was carrying, letting his vents huff harshly. Blurr smiled, concealing a laugh as Brainstorm moved on to the next conglomerate of mechs. 

Starscream's wings shot up immediately, "We can talk about your wild theories when we're not at a funeral. Now can we offer our energon in peace?" 

"Touchy," Blurr mumbled.

They returned to quiet chatter, the room slowly bubbling around them. Bumblebee Stayed quiet, letting the larger mechs speak between themselves. The Energon that had been handed to him smelled off, and it burned his olfactory sensors when he inhaled too deeply. Still, he took a small sip of it, letting it burn his glossa and down into his tank. Immediately his fuel pump picked up, his lines warmed and he felt slightly fuzzy at the tips of his digits. 

It was a nice feeling. Bumblebee took another sip. 

“Woah,” Jazz remarked as he and Prowl made it to their small group, “Looks more like a party and less like a funeral.”

Prowl nudged his side, “When have you ever known Warframes to do anything by half measures?”

“Please,” Starscream scoffed, “This is nothing. Wait until the high-grade kicks in and everyone breaks into song.”

“I’m just looking forward to the drunk interface afterwards. Starscream used to be so adventurous when he was overcharged, Right star?” Skywarp snaked a servo around Starscream's waist, purring his engine against his side, “This one time, he had Thundercracker and I stick our spikes in his thr-”

Starscream spat out his fuel, spraying it back into the cube he had sipped it from. His trine giggled around him, Thundercracker rubbing his back softly. He coughed softly as he tried to regain his composure. 

Bee giggled along with them, the engex encouraging him. 

It was odd, seeing Starscream, though defiant and loud as normal, being much more grounded and sociable with his trine at his side. It was completely different from the angry mech that avoided everyone back on the Tyrant Usurper. He liked this version of Starscream much better.

Jazz joined in mumbling over his cube, “Definitely not the worst thing I’ve done in berth,” Jazz’s face scrunched up, “Is this engex?”

“Yup!” Bumblebee hummed, sipping his own cube. 

“Primus Bee,” Jazz mumbled, “Don’t drink too much of that.”

“Who was it,” Prowl asked, interrupting their conversation. His digits were digging into the glass in his servos, and his field had gone dark despite the way he tried to keep his posture casual. 

“I’ll have you know,” Jazz said, already pinpointing the issue, “I stabbed Sentinel in the neck while we were fragging.”

“Primus,” Blurr said, optics wide, “You did what?!”

Jazz just shrugged, “He’s alive… Probably. Just left him with a little parting gift.”

Prowl relaxed visibly, taking a large chug of his fuel. His field lightened considerably, and he leaned slightly towards Jazz, “It was about time.”

“Yeah,” Jazz said, “It was.”

* * *

:: My… My Prime?::

Optimus put down the welding touch and pulled up the visor he was wearing. Beside him, Bulkhead continues to weld two large metal sheets together. Progress was slow, but they were working at a decent pace. 

Optimus rolled his optics and answered the hail, "Yes Cyclonus." 

:: You need to come to greet our newest arrivals… They are demanding you personally,:: Cyclonus reported, his throat sounding oddly dry and scratchy.

Arrivals? They definitely weren't expecting anyone. The only mechs who would have any idea what quadrant would be Overlord and the rest of the phase Sixers--

Optimus' wheels hit the ground before he finished the thought. Putting his pedal to the floor, he skidded out of the old Decepticon mountain base, driving down the mountain path and kicking up dirt as he did so. He skidded down half of the turns as he made it down to the city below. 

As he pulled up to their newest arrivals, his finials twitched, already uneasy. Battlemask flying up and Axe already pulled out, he eyes the very familiar ship. 

Never in a million years would he had expected the Peaceful Tyranny to have shown up here, landing in and subsequently ruining a baseball diamond. Cyclonus, who had already picked up on Optimus' agitation, readied his own weapons systems. Blasters already aimed at the door, neither moved until the first signs of life made themselves known. 

"Tarn!" Optimus yelled, plating puffing up as high as it would go, "You're going to take off and get off this planet, right now!" 

The port door opened almost immediately, and a mech who was definitely not Tarn stuck his helm out, looking at Optimus and Cyclonus before slipping back into the ship. There was a beat of silence before they came back out, just peeking their helm out of the door. 

"Tarn just wants to talk, one minute," They said. 

A moment later, the much smaller mech was dragging the tank out by a servo. The giant mech looked hesitant, optics shifting down to the little mech and then back up to Optimus. Tarn looked… Well, he had definitely seen better days. His paint was chipped off his claws where he had picked it off, his optics were dull and he was shaky, though not from fear. 

Somewhere in his processor, Optimus could feel fear. His servos shook, but it stopped there. Echos of what Tarn had done to him years ago still made his fuel pump hitch. He swallowed the lump at the back of his throat, strafing his servos on his axe and instead tried to read the situation. 

Why was Tarn shaking too? 

_ Nuke.  _

"You're going through Withdrawal," Optimus accused, lowering his axe, "Whats going on out there?"

Tarn cleared his vocalizer, "Megazarak has exiled the DJD. Alone we are not enough to take on the Phase Six mechs." 

_ Exiled?! One of the Decepticons’ strongest teams?!  _

The medic glared up at Tarn and jammed an elbow into his knee. He bared his dentae back down at the little mech. Almost immediately though, he cowed and swallowed a lump in his throat. 

"We've come seeking asylum, Optimus Prime," Tarn says through gritted dentae. 

"Where is Starscream in all this?" Optimus asks instead of answering. 

They haven't heard any news from the front lines in over a month now, long enough for Starscream to have returned with the escaped Decepticons. Optimus hasn't dared seek out the information himself, instead automatically adding to his body count by four. Still, the more rational part of him needs to know. Even if he has to ask Tarn to get the information. 

"Starscream?" Tarn almost looks taken aback, "No one has heard from them since the rescue mission." 

_ Ah. Captured by the Autobots then.  _

"Were you followed?" Cyclonus piped up. His optics glanced towards Optimus, obviously still nervous. 

"No," Tarn hummed, "We weren't even sure you were alive. There were rumours you escaped the battlefield, but officially you've been declared dead. Tracking down mechs is… Was our job." 

Optimus subspaced his axe, and Tarn seemed to relax, taking it as the acceptance that it was. He took another invent, and stared the tank down, trying to not let his nerves take over. 

"There will be rules," Optimus warned. 

"We accept them," Tarn said immediately, Turing back to his ship to signal the others to come out. Optimus didn't understand Why, Tarn himself could take him down with just a whisper. 

Optimus nodded, making a mental note to figure out how to deal with five mechs going through the worst withdrawal imaginable. Already ready to confine them to their ship, He waved them off. 

"Wait, Optimus Prime," The small medic, balancing herself on two wheels, pulled forwards. 

Optimus turned to watch her life up a dented datapad to him, blue optics peering up over it. 

"It is… Was Megatron's," Tarn explained, kicking the turf as the other members of the DJD joined him, "It is why we have come here. To you. Specifically." 

"Yeah! Any mech worthy of our Lord's love deserves our help-- Ow! TARN!" Kaon yelped, as Tarn wrapped a servo around his waist and lifted him up. 

Optimus' optics looked down at the Datapad, looking over the worn claw marks down its side. One corner of it was dented, bent flat like it had been thrown against a wall. Just the corner of the screen had a crack in it. Whatever was on this Datapad, Megatron must have been keeping it around for a while. 

Optimus pulled himself from that revelation and focused on the task at hand. Addressing their newest arrivals, Optimus rolled his shoulders back and ask, "Have any of you used a welder before?" 

* * *

Prowl stumbled down the hall, servo helping to hold the wall beside him. Beside him, Jazz leaned on his shoulder as he too tried to keep up on his pedes. Bumblebee hopped along beside them, stepping between the lines of the floor panels. The world spun around him as they walked along. 

“I,” Jazz started talking dramatically, holding a servo in front of him, “Know what Rodimus meant now.”

“What?” Prowl asked, squinting. He was sure the medical bay was around here somewhere. Why did this ship have to be so big?

“Hmm,” Jazz said softly, “Something about loosening up and engex. Can’t remember… remember right now.”

This hall didn’t look familiar at all. Or did all of the hallways just look the same? No… No the doors here are closer together than the ones near the medical bay. Should they turn back? But maybe they should keep going and see if they could find Blurr and Shockwave again?

“I liked Rodimus,” Bee chirped, hopping over another seam in the floor.

Jazz nodded in agreement. 

Prowl had never met the mech, but he seemed nice apparently. Did Jazz have a thing for Rodimus? His spark sank at the thought of Jazz falling in with another Prime manipulating him. He felt his tanks clench, not knowing if it was the over potent fuel or the thought of Sentinel again. 

“He’s an Autobot, remember,” Prowl points out.

“Hey!” Jazz snapped, “I take offence to that!”

Bumblebee landed on a single pede and poked his chest, “Not anymore! We’re nothing now!”

“Oh,” Jazz said, looking down at the elite guard marks still on his bumper. Something indescribable crossed the shine of his visor, “I forgot about that.” 

“You still look like Autobots to me,” A voice rumbled. 

Prowl’s attention snapped up to the Warframes just down the hall. Bumblebee stopped his hopping, falling still as both groups stared each other down. There were only two of them and Prowl didn't recognize either of them. Warning flags flared up in Prowl’s mind, though through the cloud of the alcohol he really couldn’t figure out why. 

“Nope,” Bumblebee cheered, “Not really Decepticons either. No one is right now.”

“The frag is that supposed to mean?” One of them growled, taking a few steps forwards. 

Prowls battle systems onlined to his surprise. Why was everyone angry all of a sudden?

Bee’s vocalizer softened some, “Megazarak, Nove, Nominus, whatever.”

Jazz threw his servos up in the air, gesturing dramatically, “Yeah Fuckers! We’re all in this shit hole together!”

The Decepticon stopped, malice falling from his field like a wet cloth. He paused, looking over the small group, optics narrowing suspiciously. 

“Didn’t I see one of you in Trypticon?”

“No,” Prowl mumbled, “that was Blue.”

“Blurr,” Jazz corrected.

“Right,” Prowl mumbled, “We got him arrested, didn’t we?”

“MOVE!”

A third Decepticon barged between the two, forcing them aside. Warm air wanted over them as a much more familiar, though not friendly face growled down at them. Immediately, he looked to Bumblebee, seeing his reaction to their new arrival. 

“Where have you been!?” Blitzwing yelled at them, more specifically Bee. 

“Drinking!” Bumblebee chirped, not the least bit intimidated, “Drinking to Optimus’ life!”

Blitzwing ground his dentae so hard they creaked, “With mechs from the medical bay!? You’ve been missing for the last hour!”

Hour? That didn’t seem right to Prowl. He could have sworn they had just left the part only a few clicks ago. 

Bumblebee crossed his arms, “So what! I’m allowed to do what I want! My commanding officer is deeeeeaaaaad.”

Blitzwing sighed and wiped his face with his servo. He didn’t ask, Decepticons hardly did when it came to physical touch, as he picked the smaller mech up by the waist. 

_ Click. Whirr.  _ Switching to his more calm faceplates, Blitzwing tossed the mech over his shoulder, “I’m taking you back to the Medical bay.”

“Noooo!” Bumblebee groaned, kicking his pedes out, “I don't wanna! We were just making friends! Maybe I’ll conjunx them-- Hrk!”

Prowl watched Jazz slam his fist into the back of Bee’s helm, knocking the mech out cold. When Blitzwing looked down at him, Faceplates open with surprise, Jazz shrugged. 

Prowl shifted his weight, leaning onto Blitzwing’s thigh, “I’m lost.”

For a long moment, the triple changer didn't do anything. Jazz grabbed onto another piece of his kibble, using it to stop vertigo from his jump up to Bee earlier. Prowls helm swam, and part of him was still sure Blitzwing was going to swat them into the wall. 

Instead, a servo came down and pressed softly against his back, “This way.”

* * *

Luckily for Optimus, Thesaurus happened to have construction experience from before the war. Between him and Bulkhead, the three of them made strides on the containment chamber. The only issue being Tarn and his crew and their sudden withdrawal symptoms. The longer they were on earth, the duller their plating became. 

They needed better medical attention than Nickel could provide with such limited resources. 

Just a little longer and then Optimus could do something about it. 

Optimus and Bulkhead held the final wedge of the chamber in place while their guest welded it into place. Sparks flew against his battle bask as his shoulder pressed into the metal. With a final hiss of the welder, all three of them stepped back to look at their work. The weld marks were shaky but were strong enough to hold. Optimus took a vent, just as more mech entered the room. 

"Great! A giant sphere!" Blackaracnia jeered, clapping her servos together. 

Optimus didn't dignify her agitation with a response. He knocked on the containment chamber, and it rang out a hollow drone, feeling comfort in the way it rang through his spark. Taking a vent, he finally turned around to her and the others that had followed her into the old Decepticon base. 

"Do we have the Allspark?" 

"Still on our ship," Cyclonus answered, "I will take Kaon and we will bring it here for you." 

The two of them shuffled out. Nodding to the rest of their ragtag team. Nikel wheeled forwards, picking at her servos and barely making optic contact. The Prime watched her approach, confused at her hesitation 

She took a vent in, puffing out her chest, "Blackaracnia told me what you are doing and as the only medical professional on this planet, I have to advise you this is suicide."

"It’s not," Optimus stated blankly. There were few instances that he felt much of anything past exhaustion and indifference to anything other than his mission. 

"I don't think you understand--" 

"Megatron did this once. And he lived. Despite what everyone thinks when you strip us all down, our sparks are all the same," Optimus stated, resting a servo on the chamber, "Besides, you are not my medic." 

Nickel put her servos on her hips, "And who is exactly?" 

"Ratchet." 

"My Prime," Cyclonus called, re-entering the cave, Allspark carried between him and Kaon. He approached quickly, placing the chest down at his pedes. 

Optimus saw Megatron at that moment. 

He felt so little now. Since Megatron's death, there was little left of Optimus that he could give. There were mechs around him, devoted mechs, mechs who feared him, mechs who only barely could stand him. There was a barrier between him and all of them. A trench he had dug himself to keep them out. He had lost everyone dear to him already. 

That trench, twenty times his height deep, and four across was impassable. 

It was scary to think all of his problems would only become permanent with one simple action. That trench, that disconnect would become permanent. He'd solidify his place in the universe as an immortal mech too tired and too useless to do anything right. The fact he had been driven to this dire situation was proof enough. If he had the slightest of competency in his struts, then he wouldn't be forced to doom himself to this misery. 

Optimus picked up the chest and placed it down in the containment chamber. He would follow it soon enough. 

"Cyclonus," Optimus said softly, "You know what to do if something goes wrong." 

Cyclonus nodded once and then stepped back. 

Optimus stepped into the containment chamber and sealed it closed behind him. 

The physical walls around him felt metaphorical. Somehow, tucked away in the dark of the container, Optimus still felt like his very spark was on full display as he opened his chest plates. Never in his life had he felt so exposed. Was it the cool air on his spark? Or was it the object sat in here with him. 

"You're going to have to forgive me," Optimus said out loud as if the Allspark could hear him. 

He paced around it, running his digits over the welds on the walls. He let himself take his time, purposely forgetting about the mechs just outside his prison. 

When he feels like he'd ready, he opened the Allspark. Filling the room with a soft blue glow, Optimus didn't give himself time to think. The more he overthought this, the like likely he was to diver helm first into damnation. 

Optimus brought his chassis down gains the Allspark, Merging the two into one. 

Optimus saw Primus. 

* * *

**YOU FOOL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?**

_ You had to know this was coming. What other horrendous things have I done to stop this time loop?  _

**SHATTERING THE ALLSPARK WAS NEVER AN ACCEPTABLE SOLUTION! YOU'VE SNUFFED YOUR OWN SPARK LIKE THAT OF YOUR BELOVED WARLORD!**

_ Not for long.  _

**NOT FOR LONG?!**

_ For an all-knowing God, you don't really seem to have all of this under control.  _

**I KNOW ALL, SEE ALL. I MADE YOU PRIME FOR THE FUTURE OF YOUR SPECIES! AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?!**

_ I owe you nothing.  _

**YOU OWE ME** **_EVERYTHING!_ **

_ You'll never even see me again.  _

**… WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!**

* * *

Somewhere, on the warship known as the Nemesis, Nova Prime screamed out in pain. 

* * *

Somewhere, in the complex halls of Metroplex, Nominus Prime collapsed, and the guiding light of Primus went out. 

* * *

The world burned. Every sense screamed at him, white, hot, painful, loud and overwhelming. There was not Much Optimus could do as the familiar sense of his spark shot back into his chassis. He couldn't move just yet, but slowly, his optics regained a sense of Colour, and Optimus realized he was laid out on his back, optics staring up at the ceiling of the containment chamber. 

Small shards of the Allspark dotted the entire inside of the sphere, lighting up like stars on a clear night. They shimmered brightly, twinkling like innocent lights and Not the weapon each one was individually. Assign a servo tho his own chassis, Optimus could feel several that had embedded themselves in his frame. He suspected he looked like someone has wrapped him up in Christmas lights. 

Two hundred sixteen. 

He knew exactly how many of them there were. Hopefully, he wouldn't need that many. 

The Prime sat up. Picking all but one of the shards out of his frame, he tucked an extra in his subspace. 

:: I've counted them,:: he sent a quick Comm to Cyclonus,:: if any of them are missing when I return, I will know.::

* * *

Barely repaired, Optimus Prime did not stay around to help clean up the mess. He had something to do that had waited far too long.

But what was time anymore? As a damned immortal thing, what did  _ time _ mean to him? A Cybertronians life cycle was already millions of years long if Megatron was anything to go by. What was a few more billion? He supposed, if he was truely scared of eternity, then he would just have to rip the Allspark fragment from his chassis, and he would Grey by his own servo. But even then, would Optimus be able to do it? He had already died tens of times. He was acutely aware of the consequences of his actions but had no solutions to them. 

And to curse another being to the same fate for the sake of a war? What kind of leader was he? 

Not a heroic one. That had been clear since his academy days. Perhaps he was the villian? Primus had called him 'touched by the unmaker' once. Maybe that's what he was; an unmaker. 

But did giving life count as destroying something? He destroyed the Allspark. But in doing so would give life to other mechs. 

His helm ached, but whether that was the impact or the moral dilemmas was anyone's guess. 

Lake Erie was cold. It has been raining a lot lately, and the lake had already lost most of the warmth from the summer months. As it covered Optimus' helm, his entire frame shivered, kicking up a gear to keep him warm as he walked. Sludge gummed the gears of his pedes, but he did not stop nor reconsider his direct path. 

The rain had done more than cool the water. Days of churning left the Lake murky, forcing Optimus to use his Headlights if he had any hope of finding his destination. 

The water resisted every movement he made as if he was walking in allow motion. It was as if, by some cosmic force, the Universe itself didn't want him to fulfil his task. But, Prime's of the past had done far greater feats than battle the elements of an alien planet. He dint know if they raised the dead as well, but perhaps Dai Atlas would be able to tell him someday. For now, he would just have to assure himself the path he was carving for himself was the correct one. 

He didn't recognize the Orion at first. Looking like little more than a rock formation in the murky distance. But the vague shape was correct, and so Optimus trudged on. 

The months had not been kind to their old ship. Algae had started to cover the base of it, and several fish had found gaps in its armour to claim as their own. The weld Bumblebee had sealed the door with, are still in place, bringing a sort of calm to Optimus. Pulling out his axe, he started working them open. 

It feels like opening a tomb. The Autobots never spent too long thinking about their dead. A broken cog is never long to be replaced in the great Autobot machine. Doing so-- going to search out that broken, dead cog feels so wrong. 

Breaching into the airlock of the Orion, water dripping off his plating, Optimus felt like he was walking into the afterlife itself. He's seen it, the blank expanse of nothingness waiting for him on the other side, but this time it wrapped around him like a blanket. The air was still and stale, yet somehow thick like he's still clawing through the water. 

When he reaches the stasis pods, his optics fall on the hole in the mech’s chest. There's something to be said there for Sentinel's aim, but the compliment doesn't feel right to even think about. It's a clean shot, that is all. The Grey around it is more important-- the metal-- the mech. 

Ratchet. 

Optimus taps the release, and death stares back at him. 

The Allspark fragment burns his digits as he pulled it out from his subspace. 

He remembers the funeral vividly. He remembers the way his chassis felt like it had been ripped open and stuffed with scrap metal, jagged edges of guilt ripping him apart from the inside out. He had nothing to say then, some part of him always knowing it would come to this. 

He had no words to say then, and none now. 

Optimus forced the shard into the open hole that used to be Ratchet's spark chamber. Instantly the Erie air of death was replaced with a burning virility of life. Ratchet's plating sucked up the Colour around it, felling the gray back in with bright reds. Light burst through the cracks in his plating as his spark reignited, filling the cool walls with the full spectrum once more. Something, a deep part Optimus that he had locked away warmed as well. 

Blue optics lit up once more. Optimus servos went to Ratchet's cheeks, holding them as they warmed once more. 

".... Optimus?" a familiar voice asked. 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual comments feed me! I'm sorry if I don't always reply but know I read and love them all!! And If people tend to like one plot point I always write more of it! So let me know what you think!


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